


Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God.

by bunnymaccool



Series: Holy!Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Balthazar is a snarky bastard and I love him, Dean with powers, M/M, UST, beware the almighty moth of God, srsly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymaccool/pseuds/bunnymaccool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has grown used to God dicking around in his life the last couple years. But this crap? This takes the CAKE ... or pie, rather. Now he's been thrown a whole new curve-ball. The kind that has ended the Civil War in Heaven ... but resulted in Raphael taking over, and hunting for Dean's ass on a silver platter. Not to mention dealing with Balthazar acting like a self-righteous prick, Sam having some big damn epiphany on his big brother's sexuality, and Cas eying him up like he's the world's juiciest cheeseburger. All that mixed with the chance to fix it all and set everything to rights ... but only if Dean is willing to sacrifice himself. Again. Seriously, if he ever meets that bastard God he's gonna- ... oh hey, Chuck! What are you doing here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2011 DeanCasBigBang on LJ. I'm only getting around to posting it here now, because I need to post the sequel as well... figured I'd do both at once! 
> 
> If you have a mo' ... PLEASE go see the GLORIOUS artwork that was created by Lizfu... [here](http://lizfu.livejournal.com/111888.html)
> 
> Warnings: SPOILERS!! up through Season 6! Lots of cursing, boys kissing ... and Balthazar.

**********************  
PART ONE  
**********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
**********************

All Dean Winchester had wanted was a piece of pie.

Just a simple indulgence. It felt like years since he’d been able to allow himself the joy of experiencing. A bit of super sugary fruit and flakey pastry deliciousness. Cherry, apple, blueberry, fucking rhubarb … he didn’t even care. He’d just wanted the damn thing. The curse of the Winchester’s epic bad luck had held true, however, and now his pie opportunities were on the other end of this little run down town and completely unavailable to his mouth. 

A salt and burn case, Bobby had said. Easy and under the radar, he had promised. Something to get New and Improved Sam (now with slightly used soul!) back into the game slowly. Instead of jumping straight into whatever world-devouring crisis they’d like to get involved in this week. _Civil War in Heaven or the Mother of All That is Creepy and Bad walking the streets. Choices, choices._

So … small town, easy case. Solved in about 2.24 seconds and then the Winchester brothers ambled across the street from their motel to the only diner in town for sustenance and pie. Of course at that exact moment Castiel showed up and shoot everything to shit. Forty-five minutes later, Dean is running circles in a dark warehouse he can’t get out of, being chased by two of Raphael’s lackeys and trying not to trip over the detritus all over the floor. 

Dean could hear Raphael speaking to Cas, who was naturally stuck inside an Angel’s trap because as he is a sort of adopted Winchester by this point, his luck has been in a nose dive as of late. He could also hear the sounds of Sammy struggling to get free from the absolute man-mountain angel dickhead that Raphael had brought with him this time. _Seriously, what are the requirements of a meat suit to be in Raphie’s gang anyway? Must love steroids and bench pressing small buildings?_

Dean’s foot caught on something in the darkness and he tripped and plowed straight into a line of rusted lockers along the wall of the building. _Fuckshitfuck._ He scrambled to the left and dove under a large metal table and behind some work benches to give him a chance to recover from the fall. He heard the heavy thumping footfalls of his pursuer approach the lockers that still reverberated from his crash into them. Everything else had gone silent. 

“Dean Winchester.”

Raphael’s voice boomed in the large empty space. Not as deep as when his meat suit had been a man, but still laden with the _‘don’t fuck with me’_ timbre. Dean sucked some air into his lungs as silently as possible and willed his heart to slow. There was a warm pulse in his clenched hand, and he glanced down at the closed fist in curiosity. Everything had happened so quickly, he still wasn’t even sure what Castiel had tossed him. 

Right after he’d been trapped by the holy fire and Sam had been tagged by Andre the Giant, Castiel had tossed something at Dean and demanded him to run. When the hunter had paused, Cas had practically flailed in his trap. _“Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever! Dean!”_

So he’d spun on his heel and took off, even though they’d all known that building had been sealed to prevent escape and they were all stuck inside. Dean grit his teeth. _Not exactly sure what kind of miracle you think I’m going to pull out of my ass here, Cas._

“Dean.”

 _Crap._ He’d forgotten about Bitchy McGrumpypants for a split second. He shifted under the table until he could make out the faint glow of the holy fire that held Cas captive, but he couldn’t actually see anyone. 

“If you don’t bring that back here, Dean, I will snap your brother’s neck.”

Dean ground his teeth together. It always came back to fucking threats. He was sick to death of fucking threats. _Really. Try a new tactic._ The thing in his hand pulsed warmly again, and he slowly opened his fist to see exactly with what he was dealing. A glowing ball of light rested against his palm. There was no definition to it, not like the faerie freaks with the nips. It was just a glowing ball of light. Teeny tiny and luminously white against his skin. 

He assumed it had to be some kind of weapon from Heaven, just like everything else that Cas and Balthazar were always going ape-shit over. It was kind of a letdown in the ‘super important crap’ department, even for all of Cas’s flailing. 

With no warning there were suddenly massive hands grabbing him from behind and he was being hauled to his feet. He gripped the ball of light tightly once more and flung himself backwards to knock his attacker off balance. It was like hitting a brick wall. The dude didn’t even flinch and Dean cursed under his breath. He kicked out with his feet instead, or tried to, but then the other angel dickweed was there and he grabbed Dean’s ankle. 

This one looked like he could be Andre the Giant’s little brother, and before Dean could even consider his next move, he was being lifted into the air by his ankle and then slammed back down onto his back. His head ricocheted off the dirty floor and stars exploded across his vision. The next few moments were a bit hazy, but eventually he realized that he was being dragged by the ankle _(which now hurt like a mother fucker, thank you very much)_ back towards Raphael. 

Dean’s back screamed in agony, and his head felt like it was in a vice grip, being stepped on by a Clydesdale. He groaned and his ears apparently decided at that moment to start working again, because now the warehouse walls were bouncing echoed shouts of his name. Sammy and Cas were freaking out. Possibly because Dean felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears. _Well, that went well._

There was an answering pulse of warmth in his hand, and Dean realized he hadn’t dropped the light. So technically, Raphael didn’t have it yet. So _technically,_ he still had a chance to think of something and not let Castiel down. He just didn’t know how the fuck he was going to do it. 

“Hello again, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean opened his eyes slowly to stare straight up at the stern looking woman standing over him. In his peripheral vision he could make out Cas illuminated by firelight, and awkward movements from where Sam was apparently still struggling against Andre. He was having trouble bringing it all into focus, though. Everything was soft and fuzzy, kind of like when the love interests used to show up on the original Star Trek episodes. Right before Mack Daddy Captain Kirk was gonna get down to business. 

The back of his head was beginning to feel warm and wet. This might explain why Sam and Cas had sounded so panicked upon seeing him. There was also a total possibility that his back might be broken somewhere, too. Raphael nudged his side with her pointy shoe and he sucked in a breath. She smiled stonily down at him and did it again. There was a noise from somewhere off to the right, and if Dean didn’t know that his hearing was a little wonky at the moment, he might have thought that Castiel had just growled. 

“I’ll take what you have in your hand there, Mr. Winchester, if you please.”

The light flared hot and frenzied against his palm. As if it was repeating Cas’s earlier words. _Under no circumstances can Raphael be allowed to attain that! Ever!_ Dean swallowed thickly and licked his lips.

“That’s okay. Think I’ll keep it. We’ve bonded.”

His voice had sounded weak and strained, even to his own ears. Sam paused his struggling and whispered Dean’s name in caution. _Sorry, Sammy. Cas said the bad Angel can’t have it. So she can’t have it._ Raphael’s already cold face went frigid and she sneered down at him. Time seemed to slow down for Dean as he watched the archangel bend over to either forcibly take the light or snap his neck like a twig. _Fuckshitfuck! Think Dean! You fucking moron! Think!_

Raphael was almost to the floor when Dean gave up and simply did the only thing that came to mind. He slammed the hand holding the light to his own open mouth and swallowed the little ball of warmth. The immediate searing white hot pain that licked every nerve in his body drowned out Raphael’s cry of rage, and Castiel’s cry of horror. He could feel his mouth open and screaming, but nothing penetrated the roaring sound in his ears. And just before everything went supernova white and he lost consciousness, Dean Winchester had a brief second to think…

_All I wanted was one fucking piece of pie._

***********************  
~~~SAM~~~  
***********************

There are several things that Sam Winchester intrinsically knows about his older brother. Facts and truths gathered over the years to be permanently filed away in the pie-shaped icon named “DEAN” in Sam’s brain. Some of these things are fairly simple. For instance, Dean Winchester is always hungry. If he isn’t hungry, then he’s wounded or sick or emotionally distraught. _Not that he’d ever let you know that last one._

In addition, no matter how grotesquely Dean has just stuffed his face with all manner of things fried, greasy and coronary inducing … if there are desserts on the menu … then dessert is on the menu. Sam usually just makes sure there’s something else in the room to watch or read so he doesn’t have to observe his brother orgasm over whatever his favorite pie is that particular day. 

Sam also knows that Dean never makes future plans for himself… because Dean doesn’t think he has a future. No matter how much shit is hitting the fan in whatever current messed up situation they find themselves in, Sam will always take any quiet minute he can, to come up with _‘one days’_. His _‘one days’_ are mostly, _‘One day I’m going to go back to Stanford and finish my education. One day I’m going to find someone and fall in love again. One day I’m going to have 2.5 kids and a Golden Retriever and a gas-guzzling SUV and a mortgage.’_

Sure, he understands that the way his life has been going the last couple years, the odds of any of those ‘one days’ actually coming to fruition are slim… -at best. But at least he still _thinks_ them. He still thinks about what he’ll do when he’s free of hunting once and for all. Not that he would actually quit until Dean does. No matter that his brother would never admit it out loud even to himself, but Dean needs him. Needs Sam to make sure he comes back from every hunt. Needs him to stay grounded. Needs someone to take care of and give him a purpose. And since Sam is bound and determined never to let his brother down ever again, if he can help it, he’s going to be that person for Dean. Until something or someone else comes along and Dean finally realizes that he’s done more than his share to help the world, and he deserves the chance to do something for _himself._

Sam sincerely hopes for that day to arrive. Not for _himself._ For Dean. Because his brother doesn’t make any _‘one days’_. His _‘one days’_ consist of, _‘one day I’m going back to that diner that has the pie slices as big as your face.’_ There’s nothing beyond that. Nothing beyond hunting and being on the road. As far as Sam can tell, it’s because Dean completely and unconditionally believes that he’s going to die on a hunt one of these days and that will be the end of it. 

It’s alternately terrifying and depressing as hell, and half the time Sam just wants to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Tell him, _‘You’re not just some disposable waste of flesh and bones that doesn’t deserve to be happy!’_ He’s not really sure what Dean would say to that, though. Probably just roll his eyes and laugh and tell him _he knows_ and that Sammy is stupid. The thing is … Dean doesn’t know. He _doesn’t_. From their father, from other hunters, from demons and angels alike … hell … even from Sam himself when he was soulless … Dean has grasped firmly to an innate sense of worthlessness. Like a barnacle. A barnacle of lewd jokes and carnal desires wrapped around a meaty center of angst and depression. 

It’s epically frustrating. _Epically._

Especially since Dean is really such an awesome person. _Well … when he’s not being a total dick … but that’s beside the point._ To the people that mean something to him, he’s kind and caring and loyal to a fault. He would step in front of a bullet to save someone he loved and consider it a job well done. He never asks for anything from anyone and would give you the shirt of his back if he thought you needed it. 

Sam has so many memories of his older brother cooking him supper, or packing his lunch for school, having a snack ready for him when they got home. Making sure he got something to eat for breakfast in the morning before heading out. Every toy that came in a box of cereal or Cracker Jacks went to Sam. Even if it was something that Dean really wanted. He always made sure that Sam had whatever school supplies he needed for classes, and that he had a quiet place to study and do homework in whatever run down motel they were staying at temporarily. 

In his soul … in his inner core … Sam understands that Dean is his Dad. No matter that there are only a handful of years separating them, Dean is his Dad in millions of ways that John Winchester never was. _Not that his Dad didn’t love the hell out of his kids, he did, he was just hardly ever … around._ John Winchester was more like a loving uncle that they saw a lot, but was pretty bad about playing favorites. _Not too dissimilar to Bobby, tell the truth._ Dean was always the constant in Sam’s life, and he knows that he can never pay him back for all the things he’s done for him through the years. Even when Sam betrayed him with Ruby, or was high off demon blood or a soulless freaking monster … he knows that Dean loved him more than anything else in the world. _And doesn’t_ that _just make you feel like ever-loving shit?_

No matter how many fights they’ve had, how many times they’ve turned away from each other briefly, the heart of the relationship is still there. Sam accepts that he has an almost debilitating fear inside. That even though they’ve both cheated death several times … one day it’s going to be _final_. One day it’s going to be the real thing, and he’s never going to see Dean again. And Sam is _terrified_ of actually losing his big brother for good. 

The thing is, though … that knowing all these truths about Dean Winchester may make a little brother think he truly understands him. However, time and again Sam gets proven monumentally wrong. And that’s the other really big thing that Sam knows about Dean. That sometimes when his brother is out of options, and in a hurry … he will throw the most ridiculously absurd Hail Mary pass to try and get out of a situation. So absurd that Sam will, for just a split second, wonder how on earth they could _possibly_ be related. Case in point? Shoving a possible Weapon of Heaven into your mouth and swallowing. 

_Seriously. Take back every nice thing Sam just said about him. That was just dumb._

Everything in the world seemed to freeze for the briefest of seconds, before it all came slamming back full force to life. Raphael was spewing angry Enochian words from her mouth like water; her lackeys dropped their arms away from Sam and stared at Dean in shock. There was an echo of power rebounding off the metal walls of the warehouse and causing the hair on Sam’s arms to stand on end. 

Cas, though … Cas had cried out Dean’s name in such a pained and panicked voice that Sam knew his instincts were correct, and his big brother had somehow just made everything much, much worse. Dean’s body convulsed once after he swallowed, and then screams the like Sam had never heard from a human being were being ripped from Dean’s throat like a freight train. 

Sam bent forward to reach for his brother, but Castiel screamed at him to stop. When Sam turned to look at the angel, the smaller man had his gaze firmly attached to Dean’s body, but his hands were frantically gesturing in Sam’s direction. It appeared to be the universal motion for _‘get the hell over here now’_ , and though he was desperate to go to his brother, erring on the side of millennia’s worth of wisdom would likely be the better decision. Scrambling away from the now slackened fingers of his captors, Sam leapt over the holy fire and was pulled roughly much further into Castiel’s personal space than he felt comfortable with. 

“You must stay inside this circle with me, Sam. I think it may be the safest place at the moment.”

Sam returned his gaze to Dean, and was shocked to find that there was luminous white light beginning to stream itself out of Dean’s open, screaming mouth. His eyes began to glow soon after, and the entire thing was so eerily similar to when Castiel would purify a demon out of a body that Sam’s throat convulsively bobbed with nerves. 

A deep thundering roar of noise was slowly beginning to drown out Dean’s screams. In his peripheral vision Sam saw Raphael’s henchmen take several steps back. All around them the walls and various equipment of the warehouse began to shake and rattle and fall to the floor. The rumble was now so deep that Sam had to slam his hands over his ears. It almost sounded like hundreds of angry male lions bellowing across the Serengeti from one central location. And if Sam wasn’t mistaken, that central location was his brother. 

Cas’ hand clenched in Sam’s jacket as Dean began to slowly lift off the dirty warehouse floor. Like one of those terrible old vampire movies that Sam had loved as a kid, Dean’s heels remained touching the floor, but his board-stiff body slowly eased up into a vertical position. With a sudden _‘SNAP’,_ Dean closed his eyes and mouth, enveloping the building into instant silence. 

Sam could hear the echoing roar of the noise inside his head, similar to when you’ve left a particularly loud concert and you could swear your brain was still vibrating to the tune of the drums. Other than that, there was no noise, and the distinct lack of it was horribly disorientating for a moment. Dean stood absolutely still before them and Castiel’s iron grip on Sam’s jacket loosened by a degree or two. 

Raphael took a small step forward towards the elder Winchester and Sam sucked in a breath and held it. As if he could sense the archangel closing in, Dean’s eyes slowly opened once more. The white glow was still there but it was a more muted version of the previous. It was highly disturbing to Sam that he couldn’t find Dean’s eyes in the glow. _Too reminiscent of Lilith. Not a nice thought._

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth and he slowly raised an arm to hold it in front of him. Curling his middle finger towards his thumb, the hunter made a quick flicking motion with his fingers, the kind you might make when knocking away a grain of rice atop a table. In that exact second … Raphael was gone. Flung instantly into oblivion with as much consideration and care as you would give that annoying little grain of rice. 

Sam blinked at the sudden vanishing act, and then turned his head when the angels that had been to his left immediately vacated the premises. Dean titled his head slightly to the left at the empty space where they had been, then shrugged his shoulders slightly like it really wasn’t worth the trouble. 

Castiel’s hands had dropped away from Sam at last as he took a step closer to the edge of the circle. 

“Dean?”

Sam belatedly realized that he was still holding his breath and released it slowly. He followed Cas’ lead and took a step closer to the edge of flames. Dean slowly turned his head to direct his gaze at them. There was absolutely no emotion on his face, and for Dean Winchester that was atypical. Sam reflected that his brother always had _something_ written across his features. Whether it was humor or disgust, anger or sadness, betrayal or determination … there was always _something_. This empty blankness was disconcerting. 

Dean took a single step toward them and Cas shot his arm out to latch on to Sam’s jacket once more. Sam figured he was preparing to get them both the hell out of Dodge if things where about to go badly, but it wasn’t like they could do anything while Cas was still trapped inside the ring of fire. Cas licked his lips once before speaking again, and to Sam it was a blaring tell of Cas’ nerves. This didn’t exactly instill any confidence in the younger Winchester. 

“Dean. Could you please put out this fire?”

Sam swallowed as his brother’s gaze moved from Cas’ face down to the floor where the holy oil was still burning merrily along with no mind to their struggles. Dean cocked his head slightly and blinked slowly. Suddenly the fire was gone. Not so much snuffed out as … wiped from existence. _Okay, that was really fucking creepy._ Castiel took a single step closer to Dean, now that the fire was out, but kept a firm grasp on Sam’s jacket and thus he was forced to move as well. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

Cas’ voice was even and quiet, much like someone speaking to an extremely spooked animal, trying to keep them calm and still. Castiel, and therefore Sam, took a couple slow steps closer to Dean until they were within arms reach of the older Winchester. Dean just continued to watch them blankly with his luminous eyes. Sam realized that the light was casting an ethereal blue glow to his brother’s face, throwing his cheekbones and lips into stark contrast with deep purple shadows.

Sam finally risked turning to Castiel and whispered close to his ear. 

“Cas … what the hell is going on?”

The angel blinked, but didn’t turn his gaze away from Dean. His eyes were wide and bright, filled with something that closely resembled awe. His voice was soft when he answered.

“Can you not see it, Sam?”

Sam turned back to his brother before he shook his head slightly. The glowing eye thing was cool, but nothing so awe-inspiring to cause that look in Castiel’s gaze. There was a soft pressure of fingertips against his temple, which he supposed must have been Castiel’s, and then there was a sudden explosion of light around him. He closed his eyes against the glare on instinct. Tears had immediately begun to fall at the brightness. 

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m only showing you what I see … it will not damage your eyes in any way.”

Sam nodded and carefully opened his eyes. The glare died down rather quickly, and he could dimly make out the dark shape that was his brother standing before them. Same ripped up jeans, dirty boots and worn jacket … but the rest … the rest was unbelievable. 

To use the term “beautiful” when referring to your own elder brother, who raised you in lieu of your parents, and whom you knew more disgusting and detailed facts about than you ever really wanted to … was not something that Sam Winchester ever figured he would do. However, his first immediate reaction to the sight before him was to whisper the word in reverence under his breath. 

Dean’s entire body seemed to be backlit by a giant spotlight made of shifting colors. Deep hues of purple and blue in contrast with incandescent shades of yellow and gold. Great, sweeping rays of brilliant light were emanating from the crown of his head and arching away from him to encompass the entire building. They shifted and moved as if alive. As if the lights themselves were opalescent somehow. Ribbons of muted lightening tracked away from Dean’s body and danced over the surfaces of various objects surrounding them. They were iridescent and glimmering and likely the most beautiful thing Sam Winchester had ever seen in his entire life. 

He heard Castiel whispering beside him, but the angel was merely echoing Sam’s own reaction to the view before them. The fingertips fell away from Sam’s temple and he had to blink several times at the sudden darkness that was in contrast to what he’d been gazing upon the instant before. The image felt like it was burned into his retinas, but true to Cas’ word, there was no pain. Turning to the angel, Sam could feel his own body shaking in nerves. Something was very, very wrong with this entire situation. 

“Cas … what was that?”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if Castiel had even heard him. The shorter man continued to stare, wide-eyed, at Dean. The elder Winchester himself seemed content just to stare back with his empty gaze. Cas licked his lips in nerves once again and Sam vaguely wondered where he might have picked up that particular mannerism from. _As if he didn’t know._

“Dean. Do you know who I am?”

Sam returned his attention to his brother, as Dean tilted his head slightly to the side. _If we’re going to talk about someone picking up a mannerism from someone else … the Castiel head tilt coming from Dean Winchester would have been extremely amusing at any other moment._

Dean opened his mouth. 

**“CAS.”**

Pain exploded in Sam’s head the moment Dean spoke. He could feel both of his eardrums burst and slammed his hands up to uselessly cover his ears. The warmth of his own blood flowed through his fingertips, and his brain mimicked a bass drum inside his skull. Vaguely, he was aware that all the windows in the building had imploded, and the glass bottles lying amongst the detritus on the floor had practically vaporized. 

“WHAT THE HELL, CAS?”

Sam knew he was probably screaming, but it wasn’t like he could really tell the difference at the moment. The angel appeared startled for a second, and then quickly reached over to touch Sam on the temple again. Instantly the pain was gone, and Sam straightened up and allowed his hands to drop away from his ears. Cas cleared his throat. 

“We need to get out of this town.”

Sam nodded.

“Agreed. First we need to get back to the motel and-”

In the very next second, Sam found himself standing in the middle of the cheap motel room he and Dean had been rooming in the previous night. He blinked and looked to Castiel. The angel hadn’t touched him. Castiel himself blinked once back at Sam, and as one they turned to look at Dean. Sam cleared his throat.

“Right … let me just pack up our stuff and-”

There was a rustle of noise, and when Sam turned to stare at the bed behind him both his and Dean’s duffels sat there fully packed, where they had not been a moment before. He swallowed audibly and turned back to face Castiel.

“Okay … Cas? I’m going to need an explanation pretty soon here. Like _now_ , preferably.”

The angel sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance as the rustle of feathers forewarned another presence in the room even before Balthazar’s voice boomed in the quiet. 

“Pardon me, boys, but there’s the strangest rumor-”

His abrupt silence, more so than his abrupt appearance, caused Sam to turn in Balthazar’s direction. When he did, he was met with an almost comical sight. Balthazar was standing in the middle of the motel room, obviously dumbstruck into a temporary muteness, his mouth hanging open as he simply stared at Dean … who just impassively stared back, of course. 

“Well … I’ll be damned. It’s true.”

 _Obviously Balthazar could not be stunned into silence for very long._ Castiel tensed beside Sam and refused to meet the other angel’s eyes. 

“Yes. It is true.”

Balthazar took a step forward and rested a hand softly on Castiel’s shoulder, but his gaze never wavered from Dean standing before him. 

“It kills me to say it … but that really is … quite becoming on him.”

Sam puffed out a laugh almost against his will and tried to keep his knees from shaking beneath him. There was an all encompassing sense of wrong enveloping the entire room and he just wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could. Obviously, this was a completely unacceptable reaction, because his brother needed him, and he needed Castiel’s knowledge to even grasp the situation. The fight or flight instinct, though, was swarming like a dozen bees in his gut. 

“Cassie, you’ve got to get him somewhere safe.”

“I know.”

Castiel’s voice trembled just slightly, and Sam concentrated on the two angels before him. 

“The word is spreading like wildfire thanks to Raphael’s little minions.”

“I figured as much.”

Balthazar growled under his breath in frustration. 

“Then why are you still _here_?”

“I … don’t know where to go.”

Sam gulped nervously and turned to look at his brother. Dean was still standing stiffly in the same spot as he’d been when they popped back into the motel room. His gaze was firmly on Castiel, as if he was listening to every word the angel’s spoke, but there was no reaction on his face at all. Balthazar’s voice raised a notch at his next words.

“Well then, let _Dean_ take you.”

Sam and Castiel’s gaze both snapped to the taller angel, who simply arched an eyebrow at them. 

“Oh for- … don’t look at me as if I’m crazy. If there any of us right now that would know a safe place for him to hide from angels and demons alike, it would be Dean.”

Balthazar cleared his throat and spoke softly in the direction of the elder Winchester brother. His words were filled with much more respect and care than he’d ever used with the ‘lowly’ human brothers before. It caused a shiver of trepidation to wiggle its way up Sam’s spine. If Balthazar was even _slightly_ afraid of Dean for some reason, then this thing… whatever it was … was a BIG deal. 

“Dean-o, my love?”

Dean’s white gaze left Castiel and moved slowly to Balthazar, who smiled slightly. 

“That’s a dear. Dean, we need to go some place safe. The four of us. Some place very, very, VERY safe. From angels and demons and everything else. Some place no one else can find us. Do you understand?”

Dean blinked and Sam felt the whole world seem to shift from under and around him. He squeezed his eyes closed at the sudden sense of vertigo. When everything seemed to have settled again, he slowly opened them and found himself in the middle of a warmly lit cabin. Worn, chocolate brown leather furniture was arranged around a flickering fireplace. Off to his right was a sparsely furnished kitchen with a high oak table and four well worn chairs. Turning to peek over his shoulder produced the view of a massive, hand-carved oak four-poster bed. 

His mouth feeling parched, Sam turned back to his companions. Cas was still looking around the cabin in stunned silence, but Balthazar was grinning at Dean. 

“Well done, Dean. Well done. Now don’t forget your precious Impala.”

Dean didn’t react to his words at all, but there was a sudden burst of a familiar car horn from outside the cabin and Balthazar chuckled. 

“Oh, Cassie, Cassie, Cassie … my darling little brother. This war is yours for the winning now.”

Cas’ head snapped around to glare at the other angel. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. This was not supposed to happen. This is dangerous.”

Balthazar sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. 

“Right. I forgot. Anything to win … as long as it doesn’t hurt precious little Dean Winchester.”

Sam blinked. Castiel curled his upper lip slightly. Dean did nothing. Balthazar took two steps forward to gingerly place a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Dean, love. I need to be able to leave this place … but I need to be able to find it again. Do you understand?”

Dean blinked.

“Good boy. Only let the four of us - and perhaps that grouchy old codger surrogate father of yours - freely through the gates. Can you do this?”

Dean blinked again and Sam could have sworn he felt something shift in the air around him. Balthazar chuckled. 

“Well done. I must say … I very much prefer you this way. Less talky, more effective.”

Out of nowhere, Castiel’s hand grabbed Balthazar’s wrist firmly and wrenched it away from Dean’s shoulder. The shorter angel’s eyes were lit with an inner fire and his nostrils were flaring just slightly. Sam imagined that most people wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shift to anger in Castiel’s face, but he and Dean had become quite accomplished in picking out Cas’ mood changes. 

“Balthazar. Do NOT sell us out to anyone. Do NOT let on that you have even seen us.”

The other angel sighed significantly and let his arm go lax in Castiel’s grip. 

“Honestly, Cassie, the utter lack of trust wounds me. Deeply.”

Cas’ lip twitched just slightly, and it made Sam think of Dean. He always called this Cas’ _‘is the Angel gonna have to smite a bitch’_ face. The thought of Dean made Sam focus on his brother instead of the family spat going on before him. He walked up slowly to his eerily still brother and ignored the mumbled voices behind him. 

“Dean?”

The white gaze shifted towards him and met his eyes straight on. Sam tried to smile as warmly as possible. 

“Okay, um, please don’t speak again … out loud, because ouch … but … are you still in there?”

Dean blinked. Sam sighed. 

“He’s in there, Sam.”

Sam turned to find Castiel standing by his side, and Balthazar nowhere to be seen. His shoulder’s dropped a bit and let go of a tiny morsel of his tension. Balthazar always made him nervous. He and his crazy whims. Never could predict what that angel would do.

“What’s going on, Cas? Please tell me.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. 

“I will tell both of you. Together.”

With those words the angel reached forward with his hand until his fingers brushed along Dean’s temple and across his brow, before pushing firm into the middle of his forehead. One second they were all standing there in a strange sort of silent trinity, and the next Castiel made a slightly pained gasp under his breath, and Dean crumpled like a boneless rag doll to the floor.

  
***********************  
PART TWO  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************

Upon the instant of his return to consciousness, the first thing Dean Winchester noticed was that his head felt like someone had forcibly jammed a watermelon three times the size of his skull through his eye sockets and into his brain cavity. Not a pleasant feeling to say the least.

The next thing he realized was that although he was awake now, he couldn’t even find the strength to open his eyelids, much less wiggle his pinky. His entire body felt like he’d been run across hot coals, and then drug behind a horse running the Kentucky Derby, and then maybe like a giant meat tenderizer had softened him up for the grill. 

There was a soft pillow cradling his head, and he was sinking into probably the most comfortable mattress he’d ever experienced in his life. He _should_ feel wonderful. Instead he wanted nothing more than to maybe jab a syringe of Morphine straight into his skull. His skin felt almost too tight for his body, too. Like there was something bigger inside of it that wanted to break free. 

_And seriously? Was it 120 degrees in this damn room? Because it’s fucking HOT._

“Dean? Are you awake?”

Castiel’s soft words washed over him, and could have sworn something inside his chest sighed happily without his permission. He forced his tongue to push past his lips and moisten them. 

_Fuck, his mouth was dry, too. Had he been sucking on cotton, for shit’s sake?_

With way more effort than it should have taken, he convinced his eyelids to open far enough to see Cas’ worried face hovering over him. 

Internally he wanted to mention the personal space thing again, but really, he was just too fucking tired to give a damn. He blinked a couple times and then nodded a little to acknowledge Cas’ question. Really didn’t trust his mouth or throat at the moment, to attempt speech. 

Cas’ entire body seemed to _slump_ a little in relief. For the angel to show an emotional response so readily was vaguely worrying. Or, would probably be worrying if Dean could convince his brain cells to come down from their _‘I just sucked up a zeppelin’s worth of helium’_ high and focus. Instead he just found himself blinking stupidly at this friend. 

“DEAN!?”

And crap, there was worry-wart number two. Sam’s forehead, followed closely by the rest of his face, pushed Castiel out of Dean’s line of sight. The Tower of Winchester looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and damn if there didn’t appear to be tears threatening to spill over. Dean closed his eyes. For Sam to have that look, not to mention the outright ‘fret’ that had been present in Cas’ face, it must have been bad. Whatever it was. 

He remembered some angel slamming him down into the concrete. He remembered Raphael’s pointy bitch-boot jabbing him in the side. He remembered the warm feel of his own blood pooling around his head, and the cloying scent of iron and copper in the air. 

_Oh yeah._ He also shoved an unknown weapon of Heaven into his gob like an oversized Jelly Belly. _Nice one, Winchester. Way to fucking improvise._ Although … considering their apparent current state of ‘not deadness’, maybe it had worked out okay after all. His back and head felt amazingly intact, as well. 

_Right. Down to business._ He opened his eyes and licked his lips again, smacking them together with as much force as he could muster. Trying the universal body language translation of _‘stop staring at me and get me some fucking water to drink, you asshats.’_ It must have worked because Sam got his _‘Ding! Ding!’_ expression and shot off somewhere to the right. This left only Castiel in Dean’s current view of the world. 

Castiel. 

Castiel who had a little flush of heat across his cheeks and his mouth slightly open in a soft little ‘o’, with his gaze laser-locked to Dean’s lips. _Aaaaaaand that’s a new one._ Cas usually had no problem staring you right in the eye. Truthfully, he did it too often and too intensely. This was different. This was unsettling. This was … _probably the face that Dean made when he was picking up a woman and imagining what her lips would look like wrapped around his cock._

The utter shock of that thought had him choking on nothing but air, and racked his body with great heaping sputtering coughs. Sam was suddenly there with a glass of cool water being held to his lips, and Castiel had instantly moved to the opposite side of the bed to raise him up slightly to drink. Dean downed the water in record time, then pushed away from Cas and flopped face first back into bed with a curse whispered on his lips. 

“Dean?”

He waved a dismissive hand in Sam’s general area.

“M’okay, Sammy. Was just-”

_Thinking. Contemplating. Considering. Imagining._

“-remembering.”

His overlarge little brother scooted closer, and even if Dean couldn’t see them, he knew the big Sammy puppy eyes were out in full force and chock full of concern. 

“What do you remember, Dean?”

He grunted and shoved his face into the fluffy goodness of the pillow beneath him. _Damn, what were these things made of? And could he possibly find a place to stash them in the trunk of the Impala?_

“Remember shoving the little ball of light in my mouth. That’s the last thing I got.”

One of the two shifted on the bed, but he was so sleepy-tired-warm he couldn’t really register which one it was. He snuggled down deeper into the soft mattress. _Must be a pillow top, too. Damn. Whoever’s bed this was knew how to_ live. 

“Why was that the solution that immediately came to mind, Dean?”

Cas had found his voice. _Glory Be and Hallelujah._ Dean approximated a shrug, in so much has he could curled up on his side and trying to meld with the pillow. 

“Dunno. Couldn’t think of anything else at the time. And the light was, like, really frantic to get away from Mrs. Bitchypants.”

“The _light_ was frantic?”

That was Sam. Sounding a little fuzzy around the edges. Or maybe that was just Dean’s brain attempting to pass back out again. _Is it legal to marry a mattress in the state of … wherever the fuck they were?_

“No. That actually makes sense.”

Cas again, and seriously, they were taking up his bed time with all these pesky … _words._

“You promised you would tell us what was going on when Dean woke up, Cas.”

_Break your promise, Cas. You and your pouty little ‘o’ mouth._

“Do you not think it would be prudent to wait until your brother was more alert, and not contemplating the legal ramifications of marrying a piece of furniture in the state of Colorado?”

Sam choked on a gasp that was imitating a laugh, and Dean felt a tug of a grin on his lips. _Castiel. Angel of the Lord. Bad Ass Mother Fucker and best comedic straight man ever. But seriously, stay the fuck outta my head, Cas._

Dean was slipping off to dreamland once more, when something … changed. There was a flutter in his chest. Like a moth bumping around a dim streetlight somewhere beneath his sternum. Agitated and desperate. There was a sudden taste of spice in his mouth, too. Almost like … ginger snap cookies. 

He didn’t even remember moving. Funny how one second he was too weakened to even open his eyes, and the next he was surging off the mattress, knocking Sam to the floor and startling the hell out of Castiel. He vaulted off the massive oak footboard with one foot and landed squarely in the middle of the room, reaching forward with his right hand, fingers spread wide. 

Just in time to grab Balthazar by the throat as he materialized into their presence.

***********************  
~~~SAM~~~  
***********************

Sam hadn’t even had time to attempt breaking his graceless fall from the bed before he felt his tailbone cracking against the dark oak floor. A soft cry of pain had flown from his lips and was about to be followed by a string of curses flung at this older brother, when the sight that greeted him upon his landing shocked him to silence.

Dean was standing in the middle of the cabin … grasping a stunned Balthazar by the neck. The look of utter shock on the angel’s face would have been comical at any other moment, as would the complete bewilderment on Dean’s. Sam’s gaze shot between the two frozen figures for what felt like several minutes before the world seemed to unfreeze and went crazy.

Dean flung himself away from the angel so violently that he knocked them both off balance. Balthazar merely staggered back a couple steps, but the hunter met the floor with a resounding boom. Sam’s tailbone sympathized instantly with his brother’s, and then of course, everyone began talking simultaneously. 

“WHAT THE HELL? HOW DID I DO THAT?”

“Well, that was a FINE way to greet someone who is helping you.”

“CAS! WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID I KNOW HE WAS GOING TO BE THERE?”

“Dean… please remain calm.”

“Are you even going to apologize? You could have killed me, you little prick.”

“CAS! HOW DID I KNOW AN ANGEL WAS GOING TO BE THERE?”

“Dean, I-”

“This is an expensive shirt too, you little shit. You could have torn it.”

A pounding headache was spiking Sam determinedly in the temples with each word. The three voices blended together into one jabbering, painful buzz of white noise in his head. Three grown men, some MUCH older than the other, bickering and yelling. Talking at each other, but not _to_ each other. Honestly, it was enough to drive a sane man crazy. And Sam Winchester had long ago given up the ghost believing that he was _anything_ that resembled sane. 

“WOULD YOU ALL PLEASE SHUT THE HELL UP!?!”

He honestly hadn’t expected it to make a difference, but the others silenced instantly and turned to him as one. Two bore sheepish, if not slightly frantic, looks on their faces. The other was more along the lines of _‘you insignificant little bug… I shall squish you like a flea with my pinky’_ … but what the heck. At least they were all quiet. 

Sam rubbed his forehead and tried to convince the headache it had better places to be. 

“Cas … can we PLEASE sit down and talk about this NOW?”

To his credit, Castiel just nodded and slowly turned and walked towards the large oak table in the middle of the kitchen. Sam and the others had no choice but to follow him, although Balthazar tagged behind slowly, dusting imaginary dirt from his precious shirt. Sam settled in the chair next to Dean and eyed his brother steadily. The other man had gone from practically comatose to sailing across the room in a matter of seconds, and it appeared to be catching up to him. Dean just looked weary. Exhausted in a way Sam hadn’t seen in a while. 

Of course, he had no idea what he _had_ seen in the last year or so, so who was he to really judge? He moved his gaze to Castiel sitting across from them, and there was a mirrored version of Dean’s exhaustion in the angel’s eyes. Even Balthazar was looking a little strained around the edges. Castiel sighed once before he began to speak in a very even-tempered voice. 

“What I gave you in the warehouse … what you … swallowed-”

“And that was a ridiculously dumb ass move, by the way.”

Castiel sighed again, and Sam found himself echoing it. 

“Balthazar, please-”

The other angel smirked.

“Sorry, Cassie, just pointing out what you’re obviously too far gone to.”

Dean growled something under this breath that may have contained the words ‘fire hose’ and ‘ass’ incorporated into the meaning somehow, but Sam was just trying to block it out. Obviously Balthazar got the point though, because his lecherous grin practically oozed with smarminess. 

“Promises, promises, Dean-o my love … but we wouldn’t want to make Cassie jealous.”

Sam gripped Dean’s shoulder to keep his brother in his seat, and calmly turned back to Castiel … who was blushing. Castiel. Was blushing. Castiel, who had never blushed _before_ during any of Balthazar’s implied jabs … _was_ … now. Sam’s brain momentarily suffered from a blue-screen-of-death freeze up, and he had to reboot it into safe mode. _Right. Will deal with this new revelation later. Much later._

Cas cleared his throat again, and it looked like he was practically vibrating in his seat with nerves. This did not bode well for Sam’s sanity. 

“It … it wasn’t a weapon of Heaven that you swallowed-”

“Still a stupid move.”

“-WOULD YOU PLEASE LET ME FINISH!?”

Balthazar shrugged nonchalantly before crossing his arms over his chest and petulantly turning away from the table. Sam tried to send a “mental thumbs up” to Cas, but he wasn’t sure if it came across. 

“It was something far more powerful and dangerous … to humans and angels alike.”

Sam fidgeted in his seat. Dean was clenching his hands into fists so tightly that white of his knuckles showed through. Castiel suddenly brought his own hands up to rest, palms Heavenward, on the table. He stared at them as if they were separate entities from his own being. 

“You shouldn’t have been able to even touch it. I don’t … I don’t understand why I even thought to throw it to you … I should have … _known_ better. I _do_ know better … but at the time, it was all I could think to do. And it felt like … the _right_ thing, somehow.”

The angel paused, and Sam felt the need to urge this conversation forward, he was done with beating around the bush with this. He needed to know what was happening to his brother. 

“So those _things_ … that Dean did …”

In his peripheral vision he watched as his brother’s gaze whipped from Castiel to Sam. His voice was edged with panic when he spoke.

“I did stuff? What did I do?”

“Oh, you did PLENTY, Dean-lad.”

“Stuff it, you dickless coward.”

“ _Au contraire, mon amour._ I’m hung like a horse. Would you like to see?”

Sam sighed wearily for what felt like the thousandth time that day. He heard it echoed across the table, and looked up to meet Castiel’s startling blue eyes. For the briefest of moments, he felt like they were just an ordinary group of guys hanging out, and he should shrug his shoulders and tell Cas, “Big brothers… what are you gonna do, right?”. Then Cas would laugh, and they would sling back a beer and toast to their own misery. It was a nice feeling. A nice idea. Didn’t last though. 

Balthazar cleared his throat and crossed his arms tightly across his chest before speaking. He for once sounded ever so slightly accommodating to their plight.

“Perhaps I should take over, Cassie dear.”

Castiel clenched his hands into fists so tightly that Sam swore he heard delicate finger bones snapping. The angel merely nodded his head in acceptance. Balthazar cleared his throat once more before speaking softly into the quiet room. 

“What Dean somehow managed to gob down was Grace.”

Sam felt off kilter and dizzy for a split second. Like the sturdy chair beneath him had suddenly turned to paper and was threatening to crumple to the floor. Dean sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth in the chair beside him. 

“Grace? Grace as in ANGEL Grace?”

Dean’s voice didn’t _quite_ squeak on the words, but he’d definitely sounded as off balance as Sam felt. Balthazar simply nodded and continued. 

“Yes and no. Now, normally you wouldn’t have been able to survive taking in this Grace … but somehow you did … and I have a couple theories about that.”

A memory shaped icon bearing a little exclamation mark popped up in Sam’s brain and he quickly double-clicked on the file. 

“Wait a minute. Why wouldn’t he be able to survive this Grace? Dean was set to be Michael’s vessel, right? So he should be hard-wired to survive ingesting Grace, shouldn’t he?”

Balthazar pursed his lips and turned to meet Castiel’s eyes. Cas was looking decidedly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. 

“Well … yes. You are correct in that sense. As a glorified meat suit your brother is ‘hard wired’ to accept the Grace of an Angel. Not to mention the fact that he’s walking around with fragments of Castiel’s Grace woven into every fiber of his being.”

At those words Castiel blanched paper white and Dean’s gaze whipped from Balthazar to Cas instantly, but the smaller angel didn’t meet his eyes. Sam was the only one who spoke. 

“Wait … wait … so all this time … Dean has had some of Cas’ Grace?”

Across the table from him Balthazar rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. 

“Honestly … you’re supposed to be the smart one, too.”

Sam felt his right eye twitch just slightly. 

“Look … Sam … there was nothing left of your Dear Co-Dependant Pseudo Father Figure than the shredded ribbons of his soul and a three month old rotting corpse. What do you THINK Cassie knit him back together with? Elmer’s Craft Glue?”

Yup … his eye was definitely twitching now … and he was pretty sure he could get across the table in time to get at least one good punch in. Instead he attempted to steady his voice and stay calm. Dean was giving off nervous vibes in ripples and waves beside him. 

“So then … if he’s already accustomed to Grace … why is this one so … why is it different?”

He remembered Castiel’s panicked cry when Dean had swallowed the little ball of light, and his fear when speaking to Dean in the warehouse. Not to mention the arguing with Balthazar over this being dangerous. 

Castiel suddenly leaned forward, planting his elbows on the solid table, and covered his face with his hands. His voice was soft and delicate when he spoke, nothing like his normal gravel filled rawness. 

“Because it was not the Grace of an Angel that Dean swallowed in that warehouse.”

The processor in Sam’s brain took that statement and ran with it. _Not the Grace of an Angel. Not an Angel’s Grace. Not Angel’s Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace of … By the Grace of_ … and then the world seemed to tumble out from under Sam. He felt light-headed and nauseous and disorientated. Looking across the table, he knew that both of the angels in the room understood that he’d figured it out. The frantically mumbled _‘What? What? Sam? What?’_ beside him meant that his brother had not. 

_By the Grace of … By the Grace of_ … It felt like he had a tennis ball lodged in his throat that wouldn’t move no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. 

“Oh my GOD.”

Balthazar chuckled mirthlessly across from him and tapped his own nose with a finger lightly. 

“Got it in one, Sammy boy.”

***********************  
PART THREE  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************

Dean really fucking hated it when everyone figured something out before he did. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t slow on the uptake. It was just that the super computer jammed inside his little brother’s head worked a little faster than the hardbound Encyclopedia of Street Smarts and Common Sense stuffed inside his own.

Cas had said it wasn’t the Grace of an Angel that he’d tossed Dean in that warehouse, and before he could even start contemplating what else it could _possibly_ have been, Sammy got his _‘HOLY SHIT Face # 22’_ and had paled to the verge of being corpse-like. The younger Winchester’s voice had wobbled unsteadily when he’s spoken. 

“Oh my GOD.”

Balthazar chuckled mirthlessly across from him and tapped his own nose with a finger lightly. 

“Got it in one, Sammy boy.”

And then Dean got it, too. Only one kind of Grace that could be more powerful than an angel’s he supposed. _The Grace of God. Fucking shit. How about them apples?_ It took him a minute to realize that the room had gone silent, and that he had the heavy gaze of three people on him. He’d been too stuck inside his own head for a bit. 

_The Grace of God._

He chose to meet his brother’s gaze first. Sam’s eyes were blown wide in shock (and maybe a little fear) but his mouth was angled downward in worry. Dean swallowed harshly, but still couldn’t find it in himself to speak quite yet. 

_The Grace of God. Don’t that just beat all?_

Finally, Sam turned to Balthazar and fired off some rapid-succession questions into the silent room. 

“How is that even possible? And how did Cas find God’s Grace? Doesn’t God need it? Does that mean you actually found him? Is he dead? Did he-”

Balthazar waved an impatient hand above the table and interrupted the younger hunter. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That wasn’t _all_ of God’s Grace. HIS Grace is as vast as the ocean and just as immeasurable. What Dean is snuggling in his tummy is just a drop. A teeny tiny drop of Almighty Grace.”

The Winchester brother’s swallowed audibly, perfectly in sync. Hard to kept Sammy quiet, though, when he’s got a bug in his britches. 

“Just a drop? Dean could do all that stuff … with just a single _drop_?”

Again with the stuff he could do. Which he didn’t remember. Which apparently nobody was going to fill him in on. Belatedly, Dean realized that his hands were trembling and he looked down at them resting fitfully in his lap. 

_The Grace of God. As if the dude hadn’t fucked around enough in the life of Dean Winchester._

Balthazar snorted quietly on the other side of the oak table. 

“Hello? We are talking about GOD here. The ‘All Powerful’ bit isn’t just a kitschy little PR catch phrase, you know?”

Dean caught the movement of his brother leaning forward on the table in his peripheral vision. 

“Right. Got that. So then…what about what you said before? That Dean shouldn’t have been able to even touch the Grace?”

Castiel apparently decided it was his turn to join into the conversation at that point. 

“He should _not_ have been able to touch it at all, much less take it inside him. Like I said before, I thought I knew better. I’m not sure what possessed me to do what I did.”

“What would have happened if you’d tossed it to me instead, do you think?”

Sammy was going full-blown research geek on them now, and all Dean could manage was to watch his hands shaking in his lap. His knees had taken up the suggestion, too. His brain, though, was just stuck on the fact that there was a piece of God somewhere inside him. That was just fucked up. _Royally and completely fucked up, man._

“If you … or any human … had touched a raw piece of God’s Grace … they would have been vaporized immediately. Even for angels it’s painful and almost unbearable to handle.”

_It didn’t hurt me at all, though. It was warm … and soft._

“You tossed something that could have VAPORIZED him instantly right into his hands!!??!!”

Castiel was noticeably cowed. 

“I - I said … I wasn’t sure-”

Dean closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his body as his companions continued to speak around him. He’d noticed that he’d felt irrationally warm when he’d first woken, and now that he thought about it, there was a sense of heat radiating from his core. Deep inside. Like his very bones were burning a little. It wasn’t really painful, yet…but he could tell that the possibility of it was there. 

“Then how was he able to hold it? It didn’t seem to be bothering him.”

“I’m not sure-”

“Excuse me, but I do believe I’d mentioned earlier that I had some theories?”

Beyond the warmth, his skin itself felt…stretched. Kind of like it was just barely holding something in, and at any moment one of his seams would rip open and an abundance of mass would come barreling out. 

“What theories?”

“Well, obviously … the first we already discussed. That Dean is threaded together with Cas’ Grace, and so maybe the drop of HIS Grace thought Dean was an angel and accepted him.”

“I’m not sure that would be enough, Brother. When I was transporting the Grace, I was highly uncomfortable and pained, and that was only holding it in my hand.”

“Hmm. There goes that, then.”

There was also the strange fluttering. That little moth bouncing around inside his ribcage. The one that had noticed Balthazar’s arrival before the first whispering echoes of wings had even begun. Now that he focused on it he could almost feel it humming with glee. Like it was singing _‘Castiel! Balthazar! My children! My children! My lovely little warriors!’._

_The Grace of God._

“You said theories. Plural. So if that’s out, what’s next?”

“Patience, you giant Wookie, I’m getting to it. It’s just-”

“Just what, brother?”

“It’s just that this theory is a little … well … I just don’t see how it’s even possible, really.”

Dean slowly opened his eyes and raised his gaze to the two angel’s seated across from him. There was a strange soft white mist slightly blurring his vision, but he didn’t really think about it. He was too centralized on the little moth beating next to his heart in a happy rhythm. 

**Aren’t they lovely? Aren’t they beautiful? My creations? My soldiers?**

“What’s not possible? What?”

“Well, the only other thing I can think of … is that the Grace _knew_ Dean. Dean himself. Not Cassie’s Grace inside of him.”

“Huh?”

“But, brother, Father knows all his children and loves them. Of course he would-”

“No. You do not understand what I’m trying to tell you. The Grace knew Dean … because GOD knows Dean. It recognized Dean because GOD recognizes Dean.”

The soft mist had turned into a milky haze, but he could still make out Castiel’s shape before him. The halo of light crowning the Angel’s head was something new, however. _Pretty, too_. There was a slow building pain in his chest that he was resolutely trying to ignore. It felt an awful lot like he his lungs were being starved of oxygen, but that didn’t make sense because he was breathing. Wasn’t he?

“You’re saying … You’re saying … that you think Dean KNOWS God. Personally?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“That’s not possible.”

“How do you know that, Castiel?”

“Because I looked for Father for MONTHS, brother! Dean would have told me if he knew something! I am sure of it!”

“Um, not to mention that I’m pretty sure he would have told ME, too?”

“Please try to catch up, children. God can be Anyone or Anything. He could have been standing right next to you the entire time, and you would have never known it was him unless he _wanted_ you too.”

“So … you mean … Dean knows him … but doesn’t know he’s God?”

“Exactly! Thank you for joining the rest of the class, Samuel.”

“Don’t call me Samuel.”

It started as a slow hum in his ears. As the little moth beat it’s wings faster and faster, the noise moved outward. To a rattle and a roar. It took Dean a moment to blearily recognize that ground was starting to tremor slightly. He could feel it beneath his feet on the warm wooden floor. There was a slight tinkling of glass from the kitchen that was steadily growing louder, as all the while the pain in his chest tightened and tightened. 

“So Father could have been around us the entire-”

“Do you feel that?”

There was a resounding crash as something heavy and glass was shaken from a counter and obliterated into pieces on the hard floor. The tremors in the cabin intensified until the very foundation seemed to be quivering in its place. Dean’s vision was clouded white to the point that he could barely make out movement near him. A sharp pain stabbed him in the heart, and Dean told himself to breathe, but his self didn’t listen. 

“What the hell is this? What’s going on?”

“Is it an earthquake? Doesn’t seem very likely-”

“It doesn’t feel like-DEAN!!”

He heard his name. He recognized it. He knew it was Cas … but he couldn’t make his lips respond. There was too much noise, too much movement, too much fluttering … too much.

“DEAN! DEAN!”  
“DEAN!”

The roaring in his ears drowned out everything after the last startled cry from his brother’s lips. There was so much pain. There was so much heat. _He was supposed to do something. What was he supposed to do?_

**End this. End this whole thing. Fix this. Fix this and make it right again.**

_How though? How? He didn’t understand._

*DEAN* 

_Oh. Oh that was a nice voice._

*Dean, please*

_Yes, he quite liked that voice._

*Please come back to me, Dean*

_Deep and throaty. Raw and warm. Like smooth worn pebbles tumbling through a river’s current._

*Dean*

_Castiel._

In the blank whiteness obscuring his vision, two bright blue points suddenly appeared. He focused on them with as much intensity as he could muster, and waited for the rich voice to drown out the roaring in his head once more. 

*That’s it, Dean. Concentrate on my eyes. Look in my eyes, Dean*

As he concentrated on those glittering blue lights, the stark white cloud began to thin and fade. He could make out movement and shadows beyond the shape standing directly before him. He could hear the tinkling of glass again through the roar in his ears. He could feel soft, strong hands cupping his face and anchoring him somehow. 

*Breathe, Dean. Slowly. Slowly. In time with me. Can you feel me breathe?*

The little moth had dimmed to a subtle, gentle beating in his chest, but it still sang with joy at Castiel’s closeness. He focused on it again and sure enough, he could … he could feel Cas breathing. Those were his lungs. That was his diaphragm. There was the air traveling through him. Dean’s body fell in time with those expanding and contracting lungs, with the beating of the heart in the vessel before him. He felt himself inhale deeply through his nose and exhale shallowly through his mouth. Just as Cas was doing. He felt the whisper of Cas’ breath across his face, and was sure his own was ghosting over the angel’s. 

*Yes. There. Stay there*

 _Well, that didn’t really make a lot of sense to him, but whatever._ The white haze slipped further away and he could finally make out Castiel’s face inches from his own. He realized the blue lights he’d seen were actually the angel’s eyes staring resolutely into his. Eyes suddenly stinging, Dean blinked once, and when he opened again the world was completely back to normal. 

Cas was standing before him, strong hands still tenderly holding his face. Sam hovering just beyond looking slightly worse for wear. Balthazar was further back in the kitchen knocking back an entire bottle of wine from the looks of things. 

*There you are. There you are. You have to stay with me, Dean*

Dean huffed out a deep breath and blinked a couple more times. He felt woozy and deeply tired. There was a blackness creeping into the edge of his vision that told him he was about to take a nose dive away from consciousness. Before he let it take him though, his brain wanted to point out a couple noticeable facts. 

First, all that time that Castiel had been speaking to him in such a comforting way … the angel’s mouth had never actually moved. Not once. 

And second…

“You have really beautiful eyes, Cas.”

With that … he was out.

***********************  
~~~SAM~~~  
***********************

Really, Sam wasn’t sure how much more he could take in one day. First there was the salt and burn case they’d taken care of before everything went ass-up chaotic. Then the warehouse and the motel and the weirdness … and now Dean was backpacking a little piece of God away in his soul. Honestly. How much more could an overly stressed, under-sexed little brother be expected to deal with in the span of twenty-four hours? He felt like he couldn’t remember that last time he’d actually slept. Or the last time he’d eaten. Or, hell … gone to the bathroom! He’d been practically main-lining instant black coffee after finding it tucked away in one of the cabinets in the small kitchen and was feeling jittery right down to his bones.

The whole Grace of God thing was still screaming and blathering around inside his brain. In text-speak no less. _OMG! ZOMG! ZOMFG! WTF? IDK! IDEK!_ Was on a bit of a repeated loop even as he was trying to pry as much information out of Balthazar as he could. He probably should have been paying closer attention to Dean’s reaction, because … you know … DEAN. Sam loved his brother dearly _(if not queerly … ha! Rhyme!)_ … but Dean could be a bit … well … Dean-like sometimes. 

Dean-like as in the Hail-Mary pass and the freaking out about things too big to take care of with a boom stick or a stake to the heart. _You know, things like emotional maturity._ If Sam had been paying more attention to Dean’s reaction as he should have, he might have noticed the shaking or the hyperventilating or the whole eyes losing their color again thing. Alas, however, Sam had still been grilling the angel’s and hadn’t noticed any of these things until the rattling in the kitchen started. 

All the stemware and silverware had begun tinkling quietly against each other, and that was the first thing he noticed. But quite quickly the vibrations were so strong he could hear the wine glasses actually break against each other. Finally a large vase filled with dried flowers had vibrated right off the counter to be obliterated on the floor. It wasn’t until Castiel had screamed his brother’s name that Sam had any inkling that the tremors had anything to do with Dean. 

Then he turned. Then he turned and met Dean’s milky glazed eyes. Watched the stilted, trembling motions start to shake his brother’s body nearly from the chair. Then he realized that Dean was doing this. Dean was doing _all_ of this. 

He cried his brother’s name and lurched forward to grasp his shoulder, but Castiel was there first. Castiel was there, firmly holding Dean’s head still and exuding an air of such calm that even Sam began to relax as he watched the angel slowly bring his brother back from whatever strange brink he had been teetering on. It seemed like hours, but was only minutes, before Dean’s eyes cleared and he was just staring into Cas’ gaze with a look of near-wonder on his face. 

Then his brother told the angel he had beautiful eyes … and promptly passed out. 

Castiel caught Dean before he hit the floor, obviously, or what kind of friend would he be? The look on the angel’s face, however, was really quite stunned. Stunned, and unless Sam was mistaken, _pleased._ Which was…okay…which was very interesting. He took that thought and filed it away in the cheeseburger shaped icon labeled ‘Cas’ in his brain. Right next to Dean’s pie shaped one. 

Even as he walked forward to assist Castiel in carefully carrying his brother over to the bed and tucking him back under the covers, Sam was cataloguing his thoughts beneath the Cas and Dean icons.  
 __  
Cheeseburgers > or Cheeseburgers? Y/N?  
N  
Pie = Cheeseburgers? Y/N?  
Y  
Cheeseburgers + Pie = ?  
Cheeseburgers + Pie = Awesome? Y/N?  
Y!!  
Cheeseburgers + Pie > Awesome? Y/N?  
Y!!!  
??? > Awesome?  
<3?  
<3 > Awesome? Y/N?  
Y  
Cheeseburgers + Pie > Awesome  
Cheeseburgers + Pie = <3? Y/N?  
…  
…  
Y!!!!!  
CHEESEBURGERS + PIE = <3!!  
ZOMG!  
  
“ZOH MY GOD!”

Castiel ceased tucking the blanket around Dean’s chin and turned to Sam expectantly. The younger Winchester just shook his head silently and tried to fight the blush that was threatening to take over his face. Cas just shot him a confused look and went back to settling himself on the bed to watch Dean sleep like the giant creeper he was. 

But it all _made sense now_!!! The creeping and the personal space denial and the constantly defending each other! Even the fights and the disagreements! Sam was sure there must be a hefty amount of unresolved sexual tension taking part in all the arguments between the two. There was a fucking massively epic gay romance going on here and the two main players didn’t even realize! 

_Ho. Ly. Shit._

Of course Sam _would_ see it first because he wasn’t emotionally stunted like his brother was. And poor Cas probably really had no idea what was going on because he was even _more_ emotionally stunted than Dean. Which Sam had thought was pretty impossible to accomplish previously, tell the truth. Really, it was all pretty fucking tragic when you thought about it. 

But then Sam was also running on bad coffee and no food and forty-eight hours with no sleep but plenty of stress, so it could be quite possible that he was just going out of his gourd with exhaustion and should really stop thinking about things like bromances and Brokeback Mountain and just go the fuck to sleep. 

_SLEEEEEEEP…_

So he stumbled over to the worn leather couch, and promptly passed out, too. 

 

***********************  
PART FOUR  
***********************  
~~~CASTIEL~~~  
***********************

Castiel sighed when the tell-tale _‘WHUMP’_ of Sam Winchester’s overly large body hitting the leather couch resounded in the room. _And if he, say, borrowed a little of Dean’s smuggled Grace to push the younger hunter straight into sleep? Well … who would be the wiser, really?_ The younger man clearly needed some sleep. Not to mention the hovering was … disquieting. 

The angel could feel his own shoulders start to sag in exhaustion, and he let his head hang forward against his chin just a little. There was a sudden clucking sound from directly behind him, and Cas realized he’d completely forgotten that his brother was even in the room. Balthazar was making an aggravating _‘tsking’_ sound as he approached. 

“Cassie, darling, you’re going to need to rest as well. You’re not going to be able to keep this up for much longer without rest.”

Well, that answered the question Castiel previously posed himself about if Balthazar had realized what he was doing in order to keep Dean in check. Castiel closed his eyes and reached out with his Grace towards the silent figure on the bed. The power currently roiling in the body of Dean Winchester was positively frightening. It rippled and glimmered and danced in every bit of the hunter it could manage to take hold. 

Cas called to his own Grace inside Dean’s body. The body he had painstakingly reconstructed all on his own. The angel’s Grace spider-webbed through the young human at Castiel’s command and gently pushed and pulled the Grace of the Almighty into smaller, digestible pools. If Cas’ Grace had not already been present in Dean, he shuddered to think of what would have happened to his friend. 

God’s Grace should be ripping him apart at the seams, but instead it was simply roaming about, testing the boundaries. Honestly, though, Cas wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep it in check. With another little push, he tightened his hold on the Grace of God a bit more, and then opened his eyes to stare at the face of the young man before him. 

“I will rest once we figure this out and save Dean.”

Balthazar clucked disapprovingly behind him once again, but then a warm solid hand gripped the back of Castiel’s neck in a comforting manner. 

“Of course, brother, but you won’t be able to save him if you burn yourself out completely. If you lost control of the Grace inside little Dean, there is no telling what would happen to the boy. Well, aside from the fact that it would be _very_ messy and probably make you cry.”

The urge to scoff and snort at the other angel’s words bubbled to the surface, and Cas marveled at it, once he recognized it for what it was. A very Dean-like gesture. Perhaps he had been around the Winchesters’ for far too long. He moved his gaze to the elder Winchester’s face. 

Castiel had always known that Dean had a beautiful soul, had even told him as much, from the first moment he had found him. Even as beaten and bruised as it had been, it was such a lovely thing to behold. The gruff exterior Dean always tried so hard to project could do nothing to hide the beauty inside. 

Now though. NOW. 

Castiel shivered for a brief second. 

Now it was absolutely STUNNING. 

It shined and shimmered so brilliantly that he was truly desperate with wanting to touch. He wanted to reach inside the human body and grasp that soul for just the briefest of seconds. To run the pads of his fingers along the power and electricity and glory that he knew would be there. Just once. Just for a second. 

The hand at his nape tensed unrepentantly and offered a little shake. It brought Castiel back to reality in a snap. He hadn’t even realized that he had moved his left hand up to rest in the middle of Dean’s chest. Cas swallowed audibly and snatched his hand away from the other man. 

“It really _is_ hard not to want to touch, isn’t it, Castiel?”

The other angel’s voice was open and honest for once. He wasn’t judging, simply stating fact. Castiel nodded minutely while Balthazar continued. 

“That’s why we have to keep him safe here and figure out what in Father’s name we’re going to do. I went upstairs to do a little recon. The Civil War has been put on hold.”

Castiel’s gaze whipped around instantly to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“I don’t understand.”

Balthazar crossed his arms, hugging them tight to his chest, and nodded with his head towards Dean. 

“Just as I said. It’s on hold. Word is out on the little bun in Dean’s oven, and every angel in Heaven’s Army is looking for him … and for you.”

A spike of fear laced it’s way up through Castiel’s spine. _Dean._

“The fighting … the fighting has just stopped? Who’s in charge?”

The other angel sneered in distaste. 

“Who do you _think_ , Cassie dear? Our own lovely Raphael. He understands _exactly_ what that was that you gave Dean Winchester in that warehouse and he knows that any angel that might take that bit of Grace within themselves would be the next commander of Heaven. There would be no one that could stand against them. So he’s convinced all the Heavenly Hosts that this was your plan all along. To obtain that Grace and become the next GOD.”

A startled, unbidden laugh escaped Castiel’s lips. He quickly moved off the bed to stand before his brother. 

“That’s absurd. I hadn’t even considered that-”

“Hadn’t you, brother?”

Castiel shook his head in quick denial. 

“No, _brother_ … I hadn’t. After Joshua presented it to me, I hadn’t even had the chance to determine what to do with it before Raphael was upon me and I went running.”

A strange little smirk appeared on Balthazar’s lips.

“Running straight to Dean Winchester? I wonder why that was your first instinct, hmm?”

That gave Castiel pause. He turned his head back towards the bed and sought Dean’s face with his gaze. 

“I … I am not … sure. I only know that the moment I touched it, I … I needed to get to Dean.”

Balthazar sucked a quick breath in through his teeth, and then let his arms drop to his sides. 

“Perhaps because that was what you were _supposed_ to do with it?”

Castiel didn’t turn away from watching Dean when he answered. 

“You think Father planned this? Wanted this to happen? Why?”

The other angel turned and began to slowly meander back towards the small kitchen. He was pretty sure he could snake up a couple more bottles of wine from the depths of the cabinets. 

“No one but HE would know, would they?”

“You have a _theory_ again, though, don’t you?”

Balthazar actually chuckled at that, and it took Castiel a moment to realize that there had been a petulant lilt to his voice when he’d spoken. 

“Yes, indeed, Cassie. This is Father giving you a Golden Opportunity, as it were.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“END THIS, Castiel! To end ALL of this!”

Castiel shook his head.

“No. There has to be another way.”

“THERE ISN’T ANOTHER WAY, CASTIEL!”

Sam Winchester snorted and roused a little from his sleep. Castiel pulled a bit more of Dean’s power and gently pushed it towards his little brother to send him back into a deep slumber. 

“Please be quiet, Balthazar.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Castiel!”

The taller angel stalked clear across the room and right up into Castiel’s face. Immediately, Dean’s voice popped into his head saying _‘personal space, Cas?’_ and he had to fight the urge to smile. 

“Cas, I hate to state the obvious here, but we’re losing. YOU are losing. With this little predicament now, nearly everyone has sided with Raphael. If you don’t _do_ something, they’re going to kill you AND me AND the Winchesters and then go about pretty much destroying the world. Is that what you _want_ to happen?”

Castiel shook his head and clenched his fists tightly in the sleeves of his jacket. 

“No … but Dean-”

“There IS no ‘BUT DEAN’ here, Cassie. Dean is your solution and the world’s salvation right now. All we have to do is unleash the Grace within him and stick him up in Heaven. It’ll be like a cat in a room of canaries. He’ll _sort it out._ ”

“… and then be obliterated into nothing when the Grace can’t be contained anymore and melts him from the inside?”

Balthazar grimaced for a second before placing a consoling hand on the slighter angel’s shoulder.

“And consequently save nearly everything in existence? Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what we do.”

Something ugly and painful clenched in Castiel’s throat. 

“I don’t … I don’t think I can do that, brother.”

  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


At the first touch of Castiel’s Grace against the Grace of God within him, Dean came back to consciousness. He remained utterly still and silent as he felt the Angel direct his own Grace to push and prod and pool the hitchhiking Grace inside the hunter. He wasn’t sure how Cas didn’t realize that he was awake, but figured that it must have something to do with the power thrumming through his veins. Maybe…maybe just because he didn’t _want_ the angel to know he’d awoken, he _didn’t._

_Holy shit that was some heady stuff right there._

He felt the pull of power that Cas had tugged away from him to put Sam to sleep. He tried to familiarize himself with it…with all of it. Feeling Castiel gently tug and package away bits of power here and there, Dean paid attention to every last feeling. And he _learned._

It took him a few moments to really pay attention to the conversation going on in the room. He came in around the time that Balthazar was explaining to Cas that the Civil War was apparently over. Raphael had taken charge, and Operation: Get Dean Winchester’s Knocked-Up-with-the-Grace-of-God’s Ass was highest priority and seemingly a GO. _Fantastic._ And if Balthazar was right and this was all God’s Plan, Dean was going to have a hell of a lot to tell the asshole if ever he got the chance to meet him. 

When Balthazar practically _screeched_ at Cas, Dean almost gave himself away by startling right off the fucking bed. He managed to keep it together, though, because he was fucking _awesome_ like that. He could hear Sam dragging to consciousness at the sound, but then Cas was pulling from Dean again to send baby brother back to his nap time. 

_Damn._ It was … the feeling of Cas kind of reaching inside him and _pulling_ was just… well let’s just be honest here. It was damn near erotic. Dean’s pretty damn sure that Cas had no idea what it feels like to be the pullee and not the pull-er, because if he did … he might have stopped after the first time. _Give a bit of the wrong impression, if you know what I mean._

Dean swallowed thickly once the sense of Cas had moved away again. Then he found himself too caught up in considering exactly what Balthazar was talking about further in the room. The possibility that Dean could end everything. That Dean could put it all right and save everybody. 

_Fuck. That’s something pretty big to take in. Save the world. Fix all the damage done. Burn up like a bit of tissue over a flame for your efforts. Nice work, God. Bravo. Thanks a ton. And a big old ‘FUCK YOU’ to Balthazar for being readily eager to light the fire himself._

“I don’t … I don’t think I can do that, brother.”

Cas’s whispered words struck a hard blow somewhere deep inside Dean’s belly. The angel sounded tormented over the thought of turning Dean over to the fate that Balthazar was spewing from his smug ass face, and Dean appreciated the hell out of that. It was nice to know that Cas still cared. Especially after the rocky road to re-establishing their friendship they had been traveling the last several months. 

There was a soft sigh that must have been Balthazar because when his voice next left his lips it was muted, understanding and gentle. _Blew Dean for a loop for a minute._

“Castiel. I know … I know that this man means a great deal to you. More so than you will probably ever truly understand, but to quote a rather oddball, classic American Sci-Fi program, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’ Dean will understand. I am sure, that if you ask him, Dean will understand.”

 _And that was the fucking thing of it, right there, wasn‘t it?_ Dean _did_ understand. Perfectly. More so than Balthazar or Castiel or anyone else ever really _could_. Dean understood because his little brother had already done the exact same thing. His little brother had held Satan himself at bay and willingly jumped into the bowels of Hell to be tortured and tormented for the rest of time, just because he knew it was the right thing to do. Just because if he hadn’t stepped up and done it, the entire world would have suffered. 

Sammy had given the ultimate sacrifice, but because the monumentally dick-headed hordes of bored angels just couldn’t _accept_ that, all of Dean’s little brother’s sacrifices had been in vain. Lucifer was gone, sure, but apparently Heaven just refused to let the Apocalypse go without a fight, and now it could all end. Again. 

_It was fucking ridiculous, is what it was._

Dean swallowed thickly as he felt resolution sink into his gut like a lead weight. God had apparently given him this power for a reason, and that reason was more important than himself. Besides, really, would he ever be able to look his little brother in the fucking eye again if he couldn’t do this? If he couldn’t do this, when Sammy already _had?_ Hell no. Hell. No. 

He’s not even sure if Cas and Balthazar kept talking after that. There were too many thoughts tumbling around in his mind. Too many regrets. Too many open-ended dreams that would apparently never find resolution. Really, though, how many times had Dean Winchester died at this point? Did he really expect it could keep on going? 

Honestly, he should just be counting his lucky stars that he’d had the last couple years added on to his lifespan. He’d been able to really reconnect with Sam and Bobby, Lisa and Ben, made his way to Heaven somehow and found Ash. Knew that there was someplace that all the hunters would go. All his friends and family. Dean had complete faith that Ash probably already found Ellen and Jo by now, and that they’re all together kicking back some beers and lamenting the day any of them ever laid eyes on a Winchester. 

Let’s not forget though, in these last couple years, he also got to meet Cas. Castiel, who blew his whole world order for a loop when he walked into that shed and announced that God was real and he was an angel. 

Castiel, who when they first met would look at Dean with his steady gaze that would silently say _‘I saved you, so don’t make me smite you.’_ Then as they’d spent more time together it shifted to, _‘I like you kind of, so don’t make me smite you on principal.’_ After a while though, it was just his buddy _Cas_. That he once tried to get laid and sometimes drank with, and depended on, when Dean Winchester depended on _no one._

An angel he’d bled with and fought with and saved the world with. They’d argued and disagreed, maybe stained their knuckles with the other’s blood once or twice, but he still always counted Cas as being on his side. For fuck’s sake! The angel was pretty much the only close friend besides Sammy that Dean had ever really had in his entire fucking life. _Ain’t that a kicker! Maybe they should get matching ‘BFF’ bracelets to wear!_

He didn’t really feel the humor behind that thought, though, because Dean was pretty sure that he’d let Castiel down this last year or so. The loss of Sam had been so deadening, the grief so all encompassing, that he hadn’t thought of Cas once for those first several months. Now, he thinks, he really should have. He could have called out to the angel just to check in on him from time to time. Made sure Heaven had sorted itself out, which obviously it hadn’t. Asked his friend if there was anything he needed of him, instead of sticking his head in the sand and pretending it wasn’t a giant monkey sitting on his back. 

When Sam had come back, it was like his brother was still dead to him anyway. To learn that everyone had been keeping it from him, lying to him, leaving him out of the loop. Maybe he should have handled Cas differently, treated him better, done it all with more understanding and respect. If he’d been in his right mind, he’s sure he would have, but dealing with Sam as he had been before. Well … to tell the truth, Dean had just been too wrung out mentally and emotionally to treat Cas the way he deserved. 

_All the more reason._

_All the more reason for him to set everything right now._

He owed Castiel. He owed Sammy. He owed every person that had ever trained him, saved him, and stitched him up. He owed every person that had ever been foolish enough to actually give a damn about Dean Winchester. 

So he was going to do this. He was going to go through with God’s plan and save the world. Make everything right for everyone he cared about, and then burn away like a forgotten paper lantern. 

All in all. Didn’t seem like too bad a deal to Dean.

  
***********************  
PART FIVE  
***********************  
~~~SAM~~~  
***********************  


Sam had the most God-awful taste in his mouth when he woke up the next morning. His face was also apparently stuck to the leather of the couch he’d been sleeping (and drooling) on. Slowly he opened his eyes and tried to focus on the room around him a bit before making the effort to move. He felt, well … he felt pretty damn good, actually. In fact, he felt better than he had in fucking _months_! There was absolutely no tension in his body. No cramping or stiffness. No aches or pains. _Hot damn, he’s not sure the cause, but he was very appreciative of the effect._

Once his vision focused a bit, his gaze immediately sought out the giant bed in the middle of the cabin. If he’d been expecting to find a mound of sleeping brother there, color him shocked at seeing Dean sitting up Indian style in the middle of the massive mattress. His older brother had an intensely pensive look on his face, and was fiddling with the black leather bracelets on his wrist. 

Sam furrowed his brow. Pensive Dean was never a good thing. Pensive Dean was often _‘I’m about to do something very stupid’_ Dean. Sam didn’t like that look one bit. Groaning to announce his own state of wakefulness, the younger Winchester pushed himself up from the couch to a sitting position. He let his head fall back to give the illusion that he was still half asleep, but left his eyes slightly slit open to analyze the rest of the room. 

Castiel and Balthazar sat silently at the kitchen table, and the weak filtered light making its way through the lace curtains indicated it was very early morning. There was a strange tension between the two angels that he didn’t remember being there when he fell asleep the night before. Cas looked positively angst-ridden. Balthazar just appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. _Or constipated. Hard to tell. Sam wasn’t as used to that particular angel’s facial expressions._

He remembered the last thoughts he’d had before passing out on the couch the night previous. The equation of Dean and Cas. No matter how exhausted and caffeine-high crashed he’d been the previous evening … that equation still made complete sense to Sam. 

_Dean + Cas = Love._

Seriously, how had he not seen it before? It was perfect. Dean needed someone to lean on, depend on, confide in … but at the same time be able to take care of. Focus on. Provide for, in his own kind of backwards way. Castiel could use all those things. In fact, he seemed to downright _delight_ in them on the rare occasion that Dean opened up to the angel. 

Not that Cas actually _needed_ any of that. Not that Cas couldn’t take care of _himself_. Sam didn’t mean _that_ , not at all. Truthfully, the other reason it was so perfect was the mere fact that he _didn’t_. Cas was a total badass that took no shit from Dean Winchester. Hell, when it came down to Dean making a monumentally stupid judgment call, Cas had proven that he had no problem with beating some sense into the hunter. 

At the same time, though, when something or someone made the mistake of threatening Dean … Cas would go all Doberman Pincher crazy on their ass until he knew that Dean was safe. Really, in the completely FUBAR’ed world the Winchesters resided in … it was the perfect relationship. Now what the hell should he _do_ about it? Getting Dean to talk about things like ‘feelings’ and ‘relationships’ was about as easy as getting Castiel to understand obscure pop cultural references. 

Sam was totally fucked. He supposed he could throw them both into a closet with some condoms and lube, bar the door and hope they figure it out, but _OH MY GOD THE MENTAL IMAGE OF THAT THOUGHT WAS NOW BURNED INTO HIS RETINA’S NEVER TO BE WASHED AWAY AND WHY DID HE HAVE TO GO THERE? WHY? WHYYYYYYY?_

Licking his dry lips, Sam grimaced at the taste in his mouth once more. He needed his toothbrush. And some industrial strength toothpaste. The small noise from his mouth must have finally alerted Dean to his conscious state, because his older brother was turning towards him with a sudden, blinding (and completely forced) smile. 

“Wakey, wakey, Sammy-puddin’-pie! How was your nap? You were out laid out like a little bitch!”

Sam rolled his eyes to disguise his sudden, _terrifying_ sense of panic. Dean was too happy. He was overdoing the flippant attitude. He was planning something. Or already had something planned and was just waiting to execute it. And if he was going this far to make Sam think all was well … then it was a plan he knew that Sam was going to really, really dislike. Or try to keep him from doing altogether. 

He cursed himself a little for falling asleep so deeply, because it was painfully obvious that something very important had occurred during his slumber. When Dean had spoken, Castiel’s gaze had immediately shot over to watch the man on the bed. Balthazar just continued to watch Cas. Sam sighed wearily and stood up from the couch, stretching his arms high above his head and arching his back slightly to get the most out of the movement. 

He caught Dean just watching his actions with a small little smile on his lips. _Fucking shit._ Sam was running theories through his brain at break-neck speed now. Something big had changed. Something was different now, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. _Dammit. Why did he have to fall asleep!?_

“What’s up, guys? Did I miss something?”

The resounding chorus of ‘No’s’ in the room pretty much guaranteed themselves to be falsehoods. Dean looked at Cas, and Cas looked at Balthazar, and Balthazar looked at Dean. Then back to Cas. Who went back to staring at Dean, but a little squintier eyed this time. Then Dean’s eyes flitted briefly to Balthazar before returning to Sam. It was so just this side of fucking _comical_ that Sam vaguely wondered when the laugh-track would start up. 

Sam brought both his hands up to rub once down his face before jamming his fingers through his hair in a highly irritated manner. He smacked his rank ass lips together once, then crossed his arms and tried for his sternest face. Dean called it _‘Bitch face #0 - the Prime Bitch face’_ , and didn’t Sam just love his brother’s ridiculous sense of humor sometimes? 

“Look, I can obviously tell that something’s chang-”

“I really want a cheeseburger.”

Sam’s tirade stuttered to a stop as he looked back at his older brother perched now on the end of the massive mattress. 

“What?”

Dean’s whole face lit up in a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which sent another spike of fear deep down into Sam’s gut, before Dean damn near _bounded_ from the bed and into the kitchen. 

“A cheeseburger, Sam? Surely you remember what a _cheeseburger_ is?”

The younger Winchester watched, completely fucking stunned, as Dean trotted over to the fridge and popped it open with something that closely approximated _glee_. Sam turned to the angels sitting not ten feet from the currently rummaging form of his brother and sought out Cas’ gaze. The other man turned briefly to Sam, eyebrows clearly fighting not to reach his hairline, before going back to observing Dean’s fumbling motions. Sam caught Balthazar’s gaze, too, but all he received from that arena was a vague shrug and a slight smirk. 

“Dude, I’m totally fucking starving. There’s nothing in here but some ketchup and pickles that look older than I am. Seriously. Cheeseburger. Want.”

The door to the fridge closed with a squish and Dean turned and smiled at Castiel.

“Cas! Come on, man! Cheeseburger? You know you want one, too! Don’t deny it!”

Dean’s grin was all bravado and way too many teeth for Sam’s liking, but his brother just completely ignored the three flabbergasted looks currently directed his way. Cas cleared his throat quietly and licked his lips. 

“I … I … suppose?”

Dean clapped his hands together and chuckled. A troop of shivers climbed up Sam’s spine like a march of ants. 

“Awesome! Balthazar! Be a pal and go fetch some burgers for the mongering hordes!”

The angel in question blinked once at Dean, apparently in shock, and then opened his mouth to no doubt spew forth a string of insults and curses. Just before the first vowel was set to breeze past his lips, however, the older angel froze. His eyes widened slowly, but did not break contact from Dean. Sam darted his gaze back and forth between the two and desperately tried to figure out why his brother and Balthazar appeared to be having a soulful conversation with nothing more than their eyes. 

“RIGHT!”

Sam practically jumped in place at Balthazar’s sudden outburst. The angel quickly stood and made a big production of dusting invisible dirt off his trousers. 

“Burgers it is then. Back in a few, lovelies!”

With that, he was gone, and Sam was really fucking confused.

  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


Despite being completely and utterly exhausted and wanting no more than to sleep for a couple fucking _years_ the previous evening, Dean never fell into a slumber after making his decision. He’d feigned sleep for several hours after the angels’ discussion, but sometime around four in the morning had given up and quietly lifted himself to a seated position in the middle of the bed.

Hard to believe that just twenty-four hours previous his life had been fairly normal. Well, fairly normal in so much as a _Winchester_ could ever hope for. Now he, quite literally, had the weight of the world on his shoulders. _Again_. This was his last day on Earth. _Again_. A shiver skittered down his spine as he remembered having a similar day only a handful of years ago. The echoed cries of a hellhound reverberated in his memory. 

_Sucks to experience two days like this in a lifetime._ Most people don’t even have to experience it _once._ Knowing that you’re going to die, violently and painfully, and by your own fucking _choice._ His eyes were burning with developing tears, and he mentally tried to shake himself out of a downward slide. 

_Couldn’t let Sam know. Couldn’t let Cas know._ Not until it was too late for either of them to do anything to stop him. Dean sighed and brought his hands up to rub at his stinging eyes. He couldn’t wait long on this. The angels would waste no time trying to find him. Going after Bobby, or Lisa and Ben, anyone that might have known him. He had to end it soon if he was going to end it at all. 

Sniffing softly once under his breath, Dean turned his gaze to the two current angels in his company. Cas and Balthazar were facing each other, seated on the heavy wooden chairs that flanked the kitchen table. Neither were talking, but there were a couple empty bottles of wine strewn across the table’s artfully distressed surface. 

A small smile lifted the corner of the elder Winchester’s mouth. He hoped that Cas had at least had _some_ of those empty bottles. He could use it. When his Grace had touched the Grace inside Dean, it had been obvious how upset and torn up the angel had been with the entire situation. Funny … how sometimes Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel even _liked_ him, and then the angel would prove that, yeah, apparently he actually _did._

Dean looked away from his silent companions, and toward the massive form of his little brother sprawled out on the couch. Sam’s mouth was parted slightly, and rather than actual snoring, he was just breathing loudly into the leather cushion. He’d apparently been so tired that he hadn’t bothered removing his jacket or shoes, just crashed out into oblivion. 

Dean was maybe a little jealous, but then Sam had looked like he needed the rest. Strung out and wrung out as he’d appeared. This time the smile that graced his lips was full on. _Damn, but Dean loved his little brother like a mad thing._ Sure, he hadn’t liked soulless Sammy very much, and Lucifer Sammy even less. But in all those incarnations, he’d still been Dean’s little Sammy, and he was always going to save him. No matter what. 

He just hoped that when all this played out and was done, Sam would get out of hunting and maybe try Stanford again. Or at least a wife and rugrats. Something. _Anything._ Maybe he should make Sam promise him to get out, just like his brother had done to Dean before throwing himself into the fucking pit with Lucifer. Wouldn’t that be some poetic justice? _Hmph, ain’t payback a bitch, Sammy?_

Slowly Dean brought his attention back to the quilted comforter covering the bed where he currently sat. He stared at the spot directly in front of his crossed legs and let his eyes un-focus while he drifted into this own mind for a bit. He concentrated on his little friend the moth that still beat it’s wings softly and persistently inside his chest, to remind him there were angels in the room with him. 

Never one for delving too deep into things, he just figured that the little staccato beat was some small sliver of God’s consciousness. Somehow the Grace inside him had a small trace of … _awareness._ That would explain why it accepted Dean, didn’t burn him to nothing, why it let Cas mold it, why it made the hunter feel an extremely intense sense of pride and _ownership_ of the two Heavenly beings seated a couple dozen feet away. 

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Castiel and Balthazar. Inside him, inside that little beat of the moth’s wings against his breastbone, he could differentiate between the presence of the two. Reaching for Balthazar first, Dean imagined a small spindly finger made of smoke touching the thrum of life he felt from the angel. 

_Warm spiced rum and gingersnap cookies._

**Balthazar.**

Cracking his eyes open and slanting them towards the table, he wondered if the angel could feel what he was doing. Balthazar continued to sip slowly from the remaining bottle of wine and stare blankly at Castiel, so apparently he couldn’t feel Dean using God’s Grace to touch his own. Dean pulled the Grace away from the angel and shifted his gaze across the room to the couch were Sam lay sprawled across. Could he feel people, too? The way he felt the angels? 

He thought of Sam, thought of everything he knew of his brother, and how much he meant to him. Then he imagined the ghost-like tendril of grace reaching towards that knowledge … and suddenly there it was. There was Sam. 

_Fresh home-baked bread and cinnamon apples._

**Samuel.**

And that was Sam. _Damn._ He could feel him now. Feel his brother’s battered and sectioned soul. Feel the wall splitting it down the middle. Feel the scratches on the surface that meant Sam just couldn’t leave well enough alone, as usual. Dean swallowed thickly and concentrated on the little moth. 

_Can we fix that?_

**Fix that?**

He did his best to somehow ‘point out’ the wall in Sam’s soul with his mind. If it felt like he was playing some sort of demented version of mental Pictionary, _well fuck … he was new to this whole ‘power of God’ thing, you know?_

_That wall. That soul. Can we heal that?_

**Heal that?**

_Yes. Make it all better?_

**Make it better?**

_Please. Before I leave him … I need to know that it’s all better._

**Better.**

There was a burst of something that sent shockwaves through his system. He felt God’s Grace snap some of the restraints Castiel had placed like they were nothing more than silly string attempting to hold a raging bull in place. Then the Grace was flowing to the sense of ‘Sam’ that he’d touched before. It gently grasped the battered soul and enveloped it, caressed it, whispered words of love and devotion and gratitude into its light. It told the soul what a good job it had done, how proud it was, and that it shouldn’t need to suffer so for its sacrifice. 

Before Dean knew it, the Graced had pulled back inside him, contented and warm. 

**Better.**

He had to choke down the sob that fought to explode from his throat, because he could feel it. He could _feel_ Sammy’s remade, unmarred soul. His eyes were burning with tears, but he clenched them tightly and begged them not to fall. 

_Thank you._

**Make it all better. Fix it. Fix it all better. Put it all to rights.**

_Yeah, little buddy, that’s exactly what we’re going to do._

The moth made a happy little squeak inside his head, accompanied by an enthusiastic flutter. 

**Castiel?**

Dean blinked at the sudden change of topic. The change of topic … inside his own head. _He was sooooo not going to think too hard about that._

**Castiel?**

The voice was a little more insistent this time, and Dean suddenly realized that he’d reached out to touch Balthazar and Sam, but not Cas. Well, he supposed he could remedy that. He began to unfurl the tendril of Grace towards Cas and the little moth let out another pleased squeak. Closing his eyes, Dean concentrated on keeping the angel oblivious to his presence and moved the thinnest, barely there tendril to just briefly skim across the surface-

_THUNDERSTORMS. RAIN. FRESHLY MOWED GRASS. FRESH PEACHES WITH COLD THICK CREAM. WARM SUGAR COOKIES. SKIN AND SWEAT AND HEAT AND SEX SEX SEX-_

Dean broke away with a gasp, eyes flying open to immediately seek out Castiel across the room. 

_HOLY SHIT!!_

**CASTIEL!!**

_WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?!_

**CASTIEL!!!**

The angel was staring straight back at him, eyes wide and mouth parted, gaspy little breaths making his slighter frame shudder. A strong shiver trumpeted down Dean’s spine and the little moth was apparently doing the Lambada in his chest cavity. There was something else too, and it took him a couple seconds of staring into Cas’ eyes, pupils blown wide, to realize what it was. 

Cas’ Grace. The Grace that Cas used to stitch him back together. He could feel it now. Inside of him. Dancing and twirling and singing in time with the little moth. They twirled around each other, apparently in utter fucking _glee_ at being connected. 

“Dean.”

 _Fuck._ Cas’ voice was rough and raw and deeper than usual. _It was sex voice. It was_ totally _sex voice_. It sent a spike of pleasure straight through Dean’s entire nervous system. And seriously, the fucking thing in his chest was MOTHRA now, and feeling like it was going to explode out of him any second. 

“Dean … what are you doing?”

The angel’s voice was still slightly breathless. Dean closed his eyes to break contact and panted softly, the sound almost obscene in the quiet room. He licked his dry lips and willed his voice to come out as steady as possible. 

“S-Sorry, Cas. Sorry. Was just … trying to figure something out.”

He could tell that the angel wanted to demand a better explanation, and Balthazar was practically vibrating with curiosity, but instead he slammed a mental guillotine down on the connection between him and Cas. Then he scooted on the bed until his back was to the kitchen and he was facing Sammy on the couch. 

There were two pairs of eyes practically boring holes into the back of his head, and a mopey little moth now beating mournfully in his soul, but he ignored them all.

  
***********************  
PART SIX  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


Dean honestly wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours after he touched Cas’ soul before Sam shifted upwards on the couch with a grunt. He could feel his younger brother’s gaze on him, but more importantly than that … he could feel the new lightness of Sam’s soul. A tension released itself from his shoulders. No matter how this whole situation turned out, it was all worth it now.

Because he had healed Sam’s soul. And he was going to save Castiel. Bonus if he got to shove Raphael’s pointy bitch boots up his ( _or her, whatever_ ) suit wearing ass. For the first few moments of Sam waking, Dean was pretty much running on automatic. He scoffed, and joked, and probably tried way too hard at appearing completely relaxed and normal. You know what, though? He was going to likely go supernova in the coming hours ( _yeah, bitches, Dean Winchester - UBER Martyr of Awesomeness_ ) and there was one thing he was sure he wanted right now. 

“I really want a cheeseburger.”

Hadn’t really thought about it until Sammy started to go all third degree on everyone … but yeah. Last meal time, wasn’t it? Last supper … or whatever, and he was damn well going to take it. Plus there was some things he really needed to take care of as quickly as possible, and for that, he was going to need an ally. 

“Awesome! Balthazar! Be a pal and go fetch some burgers for the mongering hordes!”

Before the prickly angel had time to spew out some insults towards Dean’s breeding or dick size, the hunter used the Grace inside him to reach out towards the _warm spiced rum and gingersnap cookies_ and TUGGED. Balthazar’s eyes widened a little and his mouth dropped open. _Stunned silent. Good look for the prick._

_Shut up and listen, Balthazar._

He wasn’t really sure it was even going to work until there was a wary voice nudging back inside his mind. 

*Dean?*

_Yeah. We don’t have a lot of time before they get suspicious, but I need you to do some things for me._

*Excuse me? I don’t even like you*

_No, but you damn sure want to let me loose in a room full of caged canaries don’t you?_

*You … you were listening?*

_No time. First, is there a way … can you, like, just wipe me from people’s memory?_

*Yes. That’s possible*

_Do you know who Lisa and Ben are?_

*Perhaps*

_I’ll take that as a yes, because I know that you’re a nosey son of a bitch. Can you just zap me outta their minds? Make it like they never knew me? Would that keep Raphael’s goons away from them for at least a little while?_

*Likely, yes. I can do that*

_Okay, so that’s first. Second, please make sure Bobby’s safe. Get him down in the safe room, make sure the sigils are up to par._

*Right, and you think he’s just going to do what I tell him?*

_Yeah, cuz he’s a paranoid old codger._

*You want me to tell him you said that?*

_Go for it. It’ll probably make him believe you more. And … and tell him I’m sorry if I ever let him down._

*Of for- please don’t make me vomit*

_Just do it._

*And why should I?*

_Because you want to be the one that lets the lion onto the lambs for slaughter._

*Hmm… you have a valid point. Anything else?*

_Duh. The burgers you fucker._

*Naturally*

_And Balthazar?_

*Yes, munchkin?*

_Don’t forget some fucking pie._

  
***********************  
~~~CASTIEL~~~  
***********************  


Castiel knew there was something very wrong occurring in the tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, but frustratingly enough, he wasn’t sure what it was. There was something off and it left his stomach in knots. Dean had been acting carefree and nonchalant ever since Sam woke earlier that morning. The current situation the Winchester brothers found themselves in was extremely dangerous and terrifying. Nonchalance just did not compute.

The angel was also worried at Balthazar’s sudden departure. He wasn’t lacking in intelligence by any means, therefore he knew there was an important conversation that he had missed out on somehow. Cas supposed that he had still been so floored by the earlier … _incident_ … that perhaps he had been blinded to Dean’s machinations. 

_And speaking of._

He turned towards the leather couch by the fireplace, unconsciously tilting his head to the side a bit as he observed the Winchesters. Dean was curled up on one end, legs tucked under him and bright grin gracing his features. Sam was facing his brother on the other end of the couch, mirroring his position and speaking softly under his breath. 

Cas couldn’t really understand what they were saying, but the gist of it was there. The brother’s were reminiscing. They were speaking of family and friends and past hunts … and lovers. Dean was practically glowing with easy smiles and deep, rumbling laughter. Sam was more reserved. His entire demeanor spoke of tension and worry. Castiel could relate to the younger brother’s unease. 

_It all seemed too much like a goodbye._

Something clenched painfully in his chest at the thought. Once or twice he tentatively reached across the space between them with his Grace and attempted to make contact. Dean had completely closed himself off, however, and that really bothered Castiel. Since they had first arrived at this safe house, he had been closely monitoring God’s Grace inside of the hunter. He knew Dean had to feel discomforted by it. The power was thrumming and pushing at everything inside a human body that, by rights, should never have been able to contain it. 

Dean’s resilience had always amazed Castiel. Dean had an ability to take whatever was thrown at him and to either solve it, or just accept it and take the fall, picking the pieces up in the aftermath. Dean’s attempt to give himself up to Michael still pissed Castiel off, however, whenever he thought about it. All the faith and trust he had put into supporting this one man, and to watch him begin to give up and crumble. He had been so _angry._

Or perhaps _hurt_ was the more appropriate term. That Dean would think so _little_ of the sacrifices Castiel had willingly given for him, and just forfeit the entire fight. 

The angel had the strangest urge to sigh dramatically. He snuffed it. _Obviously._

Dean let out a sudden belly laugh across the room and Castiel felt it like a spark all the way down to his toes. This new situation … _whatever_ this was. He needed to figure it out. Quickly. Because his concentration and focus were all off kilter and now was not the time to be handicapped like this. Dean swiped his tongue across his upper lip slowly and a smoldering fire erupted low in Castiel’s belly. 

_OH. Oh. This was ………this was desire._

The angel swiped his tongue across his bottom lip quickly, almost without conscious thought. He found himself focusing on little things about Dean that he was partial to. His strong hands. His expressive eyes. The bow of his upper lip. The warm glow of power that God’s Grace had given him. It was all very suddenly intoxicating. 

Unbidden, Cas’ thoughts flicked back to earlier in the morning. When the hunter had delicately touched against the angel’s very being. It had been the most amazing feeling Castiel had experienced in his very long lifetime. There had been a burning ache of pleasure and pain deep inside of him, and the dizzying sensation of heat and electricity and _want_. And if that feeling in _any_ way resembled sex … then Dean was very _much_ correct, and Castiel should have lost his virginity long ago. 

Across the room Dean turned his head slightly towards the angel and caught his gaze. A small, but warm, smile spread across those lips and Castiel found himself swallowing convulsively. If the hunter noticed, he didn’t acknowledge the nervous movement, and returned to listening to his brother. 

Castiel considered himself exceptionally deep in trouble. 

Dean Winchester was such a beautiful creature. Inside and out. Castiel could remember the exact moment he had first lain eyes on the Righteous Man deep in the bowls of Hell. He was pretty sure the first word out of his mouth at the time had been, _‘Oh!’_

Even with the revulsion and horror surrounding him, the man stood out in his ethereal splendor. Not that Cas had _ever_ admitted these thoughts to any being living, or dead. It would have been highly inappropriate. _Not to mention that Uriel would have heckled him into eternity. After he’d picked himself up off the floor from hysterics, of course._

Many, many years ago Castiel would sneak down to earth and watch artists hone their craft. He remembered quite clearly the three years he spent peeking at Michelangelo carving ’David’ out of marble. The angel often found himself breathless as the figure had ever so slowly formed in the pale stone. He had been completely taken by the statue’s face after its completion. 

Castiel remembered that the first time his gaze fell upon Dean Winchester, ‘David’ had immediately come to mind. He remembered that as he stitched and shaped the hunter’s body back together, he fancied himself as Michelangelo. Bringing ‘David’ to life once more from cold, dead materials. He may have, _perhaps_ … made Dean’s eyes a shade brighter green. His eyelashes just a tad thicker and longer. His lips just a little more perfectly heart-shaped and plush. 

Because that meant that this version of Dean was _Castiel’s_ version of Dean. He had placed his signature on his creation just as one of the great artists would have done. He was very proud of his work, too. 

When Balthazar returned with Dean’s requested cheeseburgers, after taking suspiciously longer than he should have, they all gathered around the table and ate slowly. Again, Dean was bubbling laughter and fearless ego busting at the seams. The other three were quiet and reserved. Castiel knew it wasn’t only he that sensed something coming to an end. It was causing him to feel ill. 

After the burgers had been thoroughly devoured (Dean finishing off the remainder that no one else could stomach) the elder Winchester bullied them all into a game of poker and several rounds of beer. Not forgetting, of course, the large apple pie that Balthazar has also returned with. Again, _suspiciously._ Castiel had never played poker before, but Dean pulled his chair up close to his and walked him through the rules. 

As the game had progressed, Cas found himself increasingly smothered by the heat of Dean’s body. The man’s thigh was completely pressed against the angel’s own, and occasionally he would lean against Cas’ shoulder and whisper tips and suggestions, breath ghosting over the shell of Cas’ ear. He couldn’t be sure if Dean was doing these things on purpose or completely subconsciously, but whichever it was, Castiel found himself enjoying the closeness more and more as the day wore on. 

He only wished it wasn’t happening at a time when the heavy sense of an _ending_ was looming over the cabin so oppressively. 

When the sun began to dip low in the sky throwing the room into a warm orange glow, Dean suddenly grew quiet. The man had curled himself into a corner of the couch and was simply observing them silently. There was such a fond expression on his face as he watched Sam tidy up the kitchen table that a heavy resignation began to form in Castiel’s chest. Whatever Dean had been planning, time was apparently up. Cas knew he would likely only have seconds to try and stop Dean from whatever his foolhardy intentions were. He had to be prepared. 

As it turns out, though, there was really nothing he could have done.

  
***********************  
PART SEVEN  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


All in all it was a pretty damn fine last day. The burgers were good, the company was awesome, and the pie was fucking _fantastic._ Just being able to have one day of peace and enjoy being around Sammy and Castiel, and begrudgingly Balthazar, had lightened the heavy pressure in Dean’s chest. He would have liked to have seen Bobby once more, but the old hunter was far too perceptive and would have given everything away in about two seconds.

He had indulged himself with the poker game, truth be told. Just wanted to have some sort of excuse to sit close to Cas and maybe try and figure out if this crazy attraction thing was all in his head. _Or all in the mind of a silly little moth made up of the Grace of God._ The warmth of the angel against him, and the way that Cas would give a sharp little inhale whenever Dean whispered tips into his ear, had proven beyond a doubt that there was actually _something_ there. It wasn’t some crazy side effect of the Grace within him. There was an honest to … to _shit_ … chemical reaction going on. Dean Winchester was crushing on an angel. An angel who, though usually sexless, was currently embodying the form of a _dude._

_A dude. Guy. Man. Fella. Person currently in possession of a penis._

This was all very new to Dean. Well, obviously penises _themselves_ were not new to Dean. He and his own penis had a very close and loving affiliation. It was the whole possibility of being involved in a sexual relationship wherein _two_ penises may be participants that kind of made his higher brain functions scream like a girl and dive off of the boat. 

Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn’t going to be around long enough to try it out. Because chances were he would just fuck it all up beyond repair and Castiel would hate him for eternity. Or possibly just smite his fabulously adorable ass into oblivion. 

_Better for all around, really._

Dean really felt bad for Sammy, though, the poor kid. It was obvious that his younger brother knew that something was going on; he’d been damn near _brooding_ the entire day. In all fairness, Sam knew Dean just as well as Dean knew Sam, so … Sammy could probably tell first thing this morning that something he wouldn’t like was about to go down. If there was any _other_ way to settle this whole mess, Dean would jump at it. He just had to convince Sam of that as well. Because for shit’s sake, was there a translation of the name Winchester somewhere in the old language that directly correlated to _‘sucker who will happily sacrifice for the greater good’_? He’s pretty sure it has to be out there. 

A movement caught Dean’s eye and he shifted his gaze to Castiel. The angel was rhythmically clenching and releasing the long fingers of his hands into fists. Dean couldn’t tell if Cas even realized he was doing it, his eyes were too focused on somewhere in the middle of Dean’s chest. The look on his face was dubious, though, caught somewhere between astoundingly pissed off and _‘boo hoo the mailman just kicked my puppy‘._

Which meant that Cas knew something was up, too, and thus apparently Dean was really incapable of hiding shit from these two people. _Well, fuck._ At least they had gone along with his silly requests for the day. Played to his whims. Probably all the while both of them thinking, independently, of how they were going to stop Dean Winchester from doing whatever stupid self-flagellating thing he was about to do today. 

_Damn. Big word there. Sammy woulda been proud._

Balthazar made a sudden noise under his breath that was somewhere between a cough, a sigh, and a _‘fuck off and die already you pitifully weak piece of shit human being.’_ Which meant time was up. _Dean Winchester this has been your life and its fucking over now. Please be the badass mother fucker that we all know you are and save the planet? Why yes, ma’am, I do believe I will. Please make sure my memorial statue has an extra large fig leaf and the words ‘suck it, bitches’ carved into my bare ass. Thanks._

Dean rolled his neck slowly once, his shoulders slowly twice, and carefully started snipping away at the bits of Castiel’s Grace that were holding him in check. 

**Fix it? Fix it now?**

_Yeah, Mothra, baby. Time to get your game face on. We’re about to fix it all._

There was an excited squeak of noise from the Grace inside him, and then he felt it building up its strength in downright terrifying magnitude. Castiel’s safe guards all started to melt slowly away. Dean could feel power humming in his veins, but he begged for a couple moments to say goodbye before he lost his own consciousness to the intensity. The Grace seemed to understand his request and muted the energy back a bit. Dean sighed deeply and slowly pulled himself to his feet. 

He supposed it was a testament to Sam and Castiel’s affection for him that they both surged forward the moment he rose, as if to stop him. Dean pulled some power from the Grace and halted them both in their tracks. He wasn’t really sure how he did it _exactly_ , he just kind of imagined that they were both stuck in cement from the waist down, and just that quickly they both skidded to a stop. 

If he had been in the mood for humor, the looks on the two men’s faces would have been hysterical, but as it was Dean just felt like a giant douche bag. Sammy was struggling to move his feet forward and growing more visibly panicked by the second. Castiel, though, was simply standing there frozen and staring at Dean intently. For his part, Dean smiled sheepishly back at the angel. 

“Sorry, guys. I’m _really_ fucking sorry.”

His words made Sam forget about his paralyzed lower body and try to grab for Dean. There was a look of hurt betrayal on his younger brother’s face that made Dean want to stab himself in the eye. 

“Dean. Whatever you’re thinking of. Don’t do it.”

Sam’s voice caught a bit in the middle, and fuck if Dean couldn’t feel the tears start to well up in his own eyes. 

“Sorry, Sammy. Got a plan. Got something I have to do.”

“Dean. What exactly are you planning on doing?”

Castiel’s voice had been stern and bitter, but laced with such a heavy sense potential loss, that Dean felt his gut clench in sympathy. It always sucked so much to be on _that_ side of sacrifice. Sacrificing _yourself_ was pretty easy, oddly enough, but having someone you love sacrifice themselves for you. _Damn._ That’s a pain that stays with you for a hell of a long time. Never really goes away. Just lingers like a malignant tumor in your soul. Dean smiled as warmly and sincerely as he could manage at the angel that had been his friend for several years, now. 

“Gonna do exactly what your deadbeat Dad wants me to do.”

Castiel subconsciously shook his head just barely before speaking again, with a newly frantic edge coloring his deep voice. 

“You don’t need to do that, Dean. We’ll find another way out of this.”

Dean took a step towards the angel and chuckled humorously under his breath. 

“No other way, Cas. This is Papa Smurf’s plan … and who are we to go against it, huh?”

Sam’s hands were still outstretched and reaching for his older brother. 

“What plan? Dean? What are you talking about? What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

Dean took pity on his little brother and stepped into reaching distance. Sam’s hands instantly clutched his flannel shirt and tugged him forward into the younger Winchester’s personal space. Dean reached his own hands up and grabbed Sam’s head tightly with both of them, fingers tangling in his brother’s ridiculously long hair. Holding the taller man’s head still, he brought their faces close so their gazes were forced into each other. The monster sized pout on Sam’s mouth and the frantically shifting eyes meant that even if he didn’t have the exact details of what was about to happen … he got the gist of it. Dean felt his eyebrows draw downwards in concentration, the power humming in his blood was slowly magnifying as the Grace gently continued to cut away Cas’ restraints. 

“Sammy. Sammy. I love you, okay. I love you so much.”

Sam started shaking his head within Dean’s grasp, as if it could make Dean stop speaking, and therefore stop what was going on. 

“You get out of hunting, okay? Don’t do it anymore. You don’t need to. Go to school, find a girl, and make some babies, okay? We’ve done enough for this fucking world. There’s no need for you to do any more.”

Sam’s hands flew from Dean’s flannel shirt to grip his brother’s face in a mirror copy of the hold Dean had on him. 

“Dean. Don’t be stupid. There’s no reason for you to sacrifice yourself over this! We’ll find another way, we’ll-”

“No, Sam. Plans already in motion. There’s nothing that can be done to-”

“GODAMMIT, DEAN! YOU DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO THROW YOURSELF ON THE SACRIFICIAL FIRE, YOU KNOW!?!”

Dean swiped his thumb across his little brother’s cheek. He wondered if Sam even realized the tears had started breaking free, leaving tracks of moisture down his face. Then again, he wasn’t sure when they had managed to fall from his own eyes, but he could feel them dripping off his chin. 

“Sam. Listen. Please listen. This Grace that’s inside me? It’s burning me away, man. It’s … this was never meant to be a permanent addition, you know? There was a very short time limit on this plan that the big cheese forced us into, okay?”

The younger hunter sniffed once, and the hands grasping Dean’s face slackened by a slight margin.

“What … what do you mean?”

Dean licked his lips and took the chance to look over at Castiel to his right. The angel’s face appeared downright stricken, and the acknowledgement of the truth was right there. Up front for everyone to see. Dean turned back to his brother. 

“A human body can’t withstand the Grace of God, remember? It’s too much for me to handle. I can … I can feel it, like … like it’s stretching my body to the seams and its just seconds away from bursting, you know? So no matter whether I chose to do something, or just sit here and wait for it … I’ve got maybe a couple hours until I go up like a roman candle. Okay, Sammy? Do you understand?”

Sam just shook his head again and lost the battle with a sob. 

“So which would you rather me do, Sammy? Stay here and go BOOM? Take you all with me and accomplish absolutely _nothing_? Or take this shitty situation and make something of it?”

His little brother just sniffled, and two more tears dropped from his eyes. Dean continued speaking. He was desperate for Sam, and Cas, to understand there was no choice in the matter. 

“I don’t want to do this, Sam, but I’ve got no choice. You understand that, right? I wouldn’t leave you again if I could help it, but it just seems like Winchester’s are always fucking destined to abandon each other tragically. It really fucking sucks … but we’ve had a good run of it, right, Sammy? We‘ve accomplished a lot, you know, saved a lot of people. Did a lot of good things. Made Mom and Dad real proud, I bet. And I‘m … I‘m _real_ fucking proud of _you_ , you know?”

**FIX IT. FIX IT ALL NOW.**

_A few more minutes. Please. Just a few more._

Dean’s hands dropped away from Sam’s face, and his brother copied the gesture. Turning his head away from Sam and towards Cas, Dean managed a pathetically watery smile for the angel. He moved a step closer to the other man and met his unflinching gaze. Dean allowed himself a small consolation of moving far into Cas’ personal space, almost in homage to the history they’ve had together. 

He clapped his right hand on the angel’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Cas, I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t want it to go down this way. I heard you talking to Balthazar about it, and I know you’re probably really pissed off at me right now for not talking to you about this first… but man, there’s really no other way.”

The angel’s lips had become a thin, hard line but his gaze was still locked with Dean’s own. It hadn’t wavered or weakened once. 

“The Grace, Cas … it’s crazy strong, man. You couldn’t hold it back forever. Although I know you were trying really hard …but it was never going to be enough. There has only ever been one outcome here, okay? This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. Sam won’t blame you either. This was God’s plan all along, I just get to be his pawn. If you want to blame someone, blame your dumb Dad. Okay? And if you ever get to meet him, kick him in the ass once for me.”

Dean flicked his gaze over to his brother. 

“Sammy, don’t abandon Cas, okay? Keep in touch with him, even if it’s just by praying. Keep him grounded. Make sure he doesn’t forget that he’s a member of our family now. Get together… grab a beer and a burger and bitch about missing me and how awesome I was, alright?”

For his part, Sam just looked like he was vibrating in place … about to shake apart and scatter all over the floor. There were little hitching sobs under his breath, and Dean realized he’d forgotten something really fucking important.

“Oh … Sam. Don’t worry about the wall anymore. I took care of it last night.”

Sam’s voice was raspy and quiet.

“Wh- …what?”

Dean grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“Last night … I … I healed your soul. It’s all better now. One-hundred percent Sam-tastic. Nothing to worry about.”

Sam hiccupped through a harsh sob and squeezed his eyes closed. Dean stepped back over towards his brother and flung his arms around the taller man. Sam returned the hug instantly, burying his face into Dean’s neck, and Dean could barely make out the repeated whispered chants of _‘don’t do this, please don’t do this’_ ghosting over his skin. He mumbled his own response with his lips pressed against his little brother’s ear. 

“Sorry, Sammy. So sorry, Sammy.”

With a tremendous effort Dean pushed Sam back and away from him. He tilted his head over towards the couch where his leather jacket was draped over the arm. 

“Your jacket now, kiddo. You were so jealous when Dad gave it to me in high school, remember? It’s all yours now.”

Sam shook his head once. 

“I don’t want the damn jacket, Dean. I want you not to do thi-”

“Oh!! I almost forgot!”

Quickly, Dean fumbled with the simple black cords that he hadn’t removed from his wrist in years. He’d loosened them that morning, so it only took a second to get them off and then he was grabbing Sam’s arm and forcing them over his brother’s fingers and around his wrist. When he was done he patted Sam’s arm once and smiled up at him. For his part, Sam just stared at the new additions to his person while he tucked his trembling bottom lip between his teeth. Dean took the opportunity to step away from his brother and back towards Castiel. 

**FIX IT!! FIX IT ALL NOW!!**

Dean felt one of the strongest of Castiel’s restraints inside him splinter and burst, sending a shockwave of power and pain through his nerves. It tore a gasp from his lips and he pitched forward. He’d expected to fall to his knees, but suddenly there was a solid wall of warmth meeting him chest to chest, and strong arms wrapped around him to hold him steady. He allowed his head to fall forward onto a solid shoulder as he panted through the pain.

_Please… please … just a minute more._

His whole body felt like a waking limb, full of pins and needles and marching ants. A small sound of distress bubbled from his mouth and the arms around him clenched tighter by a fraction. 

“Dean?”

When he could focus his gaze again, Dean glanced up to find Cas looking at him, the corners of his mouth tilted down in worry. Belatedly, the hunter realized that the angel was basically hugging him close, and Dean’s head was tucked into his neck. His mouth just a hair away from the angel’s warm skin. Oddly, Dean just couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the strength of Cas’ arms. 

“S-sorry, Cas.”

The words left his lips on a puff of breath, and Dean could feel the body holding him shiver slightly at their touch. There was a clearing of a throat behind him, and shit … Dean had completely forgotten about Balthazar and the whole fucking situation for just a second. For just a second he’d just allowed his brain to short circuit on the thought that, _wow … I really kind of like Cas holding me like this._

Finally, he forced himself to push away from the angel, but dropped his gaze from those searching blue eyes. He flicked his eyes back over to Sammy, and his little brother was glancing between Dean and Castiel with a look of utter heartbreak on his face. Dean swallowed thickly and tore his gaze away to concentrate on his own hands. They were shaking. The shine of his ring almost sparkling with the trembling movements. 

Inspiration struck suddenly. 

Dean gripped the ring and slowly pulled it off his finger. There was a band of pale skin beneath it that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Without lifting his head to see the angel’s face, Dean reached out to carefully grip Cas’ wrist and bring his hand forward. The slackened fingers in his grip twitched once as Dean raised the hand slowly, palm up, and placed the ring square in the middle. Then with both his own hands he carefully closed Castiel’s fingers around the small bit of metal. 

“Don’t forget me, ‘kay Cas? Don‘t forget yourself, either.”

 _Fuck. Was that his voice?_ It was broken and strained and he didn’t even recognize it. There was a sudden mournful keening sound that he didn’t comprehend, and just as he was tilting his head back up to determine the source a strong hand gripped the back of his skull. The next instant he was pulled forward roughly and he found his lips slammed into the warm, slightly chapped lips of the angel before him. Dean felt his eyes widen comically, meeting the blue gaze inches away for a second before he squeezed them closed to break away from that stare. 

The hand cradling his skull forced him to cant his head slightly to the side, and then there was a thumb from another hand (still clenched tightly around the ring) on his chin. At the same moment that Dean felt a scalding tongue teasing the seal of his lips, that thumb pushed downward and forced his mouth open. Instantly that tongue just fucking delved in, leaving a trail of heat as it slid across the roof of his mouth. 

A strange whimpering noise bubbled up from Dean’s chest, _and fuck, time to get with the program._ His hands practically slammed against Castiel’s head as his fingers gripped and pulled at the other man’s hair. Pressing his mouth even harder against the angel’s lips, he met that searing tongue move for move, caress for caress. Pushing and pulling and sucking and nibbling and bruising and Goddamn … GODDAMN. Castiel was fucking _eating_ at Dean’s mouth like a starving man, and Dean was totally on board for the feast. 

He was also completely out of oxygen. 

Dean ripped his mouth away from Castiel’s and fuck … FUCK. The angel was all swollen lips and flushed face and pupils blown wide and panting to catch his breath. Dean could only imagine that he must look the same way. FUCK. _FUCK._ He didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need this, because he figured this was never going to happen, and now it was making him second guess his decision. 

Dean licked his lips and barely kept himself from groaning at the taste of Castiel he found there. 

“P-pizza man, huh?”

He hadn’t even realized he was going to say anything until the words were out of his mouth and hanging in the air. Castiel’s gaze was laser locked to Dean’s lips. The angel just nodded mutely to the question and Dean released a breathy chuckle. 

“Damn. I take back everything I said about you watching porn, Cas.”

There was a God-awful _rip_ of pain from deep inside his chest and a high whine of agony burst out of him. The Grace had lost all it’s patience. Dean’s knees buckled and he fell into Cas once again. This time Dean wrapped his arms tightly around the angel’s neck to help support himself. He gently leaned his forehead against Cas’ own and panted against the slightly shorter man’s lips. 

“Gotta go, Cas. I gotta go.”

The head pressed against his shook twice in denial, but before the angel could speak Dean pressed his lips again firmly to Castiel’s. 

“Gotta go.”

Dean tried to pull away, but Cas made an insanely hot little whimpering noise under his breath and brought their lips back together once again. 

“Dean.”

One more kiss, and this time Dean sucked Castiel’s bottom lip into his mouth for just a second before releasing it, nibbling on the flesh as it went. 

“Cas. I have to go … or I’m going to end up taking you all down with me.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed and finally nodded his head just once. Dean stepped back on weak legs and immediately felt like he was splitting something inside him apart. He could feel his chin wibbling beyond his control. There was a sniffle to his left, and he turned to look at Sam one final time. His brother’s face was crumpled in loss and regret, and Dean instinctively knew that it wasn’t all just for himself losing his big brother. It was also for Castiel and Dean. Who had just found something together, but had to rip it apart right after it’s discovery. 

“Bye, Sammy. Love you.”

Sam nodded once, but apparently couldn’t bring himself to speak. Dean didn’t need to hear the words, though, he knew Sam loved him. He turned back to Castiel, and fuck if the angel didn’t look just as broken as Dean felt. 

“Bye, Cas …………… love you.”

The angel’s shoulders hitched upwards once, and even from a couple feet away Dean could tell Cas was shaking. Dean felt his own legs growing weaker in sympathy. A warm presence moved into his side, and Balthazar was gently clutching Dean’s elbow and supporting him. When Balthazar spoke it was almost a shock to Dean’s system. He felt like he hadn’t heard the other man’s voice in days. 

“I’m … I’m sorry, Cassie … truly.”

Castiel didn’t turn to face the other angel, though; he just kept his gaze steady on Dean. Dean kept shifting his own gaze back and forth between Sammy and Cas. Attempting to soak up everything they were deep inside himself these last couple seconds. 

**NOW.**

A cry of pain broke past his lips. He was on fucking fire. His bones. His nerves. His muscles. They were burning him from the inside out. A white mist was quickly forming in his vision, softening the deep wooden hues of the cabin. He heard Sam and Cas scream his name in stereo, but the world was suddenly shifting and the walls of the cabin, and the two people before him were gone. Lost to him. 

The next thing Dean knew he was standing in a wide open space of nothingness. Balthazar was still clutching his elbow, but was glancing around them frantically. 

“They’re sure to have felt you as soon as we arrived. They’ll all be here soon.”

Dean nodded and struggled to stand upright on his own. 

“Get out of here, Balthazar.”

The angel’s head snapped around to stare intently at Dean, who chuckled without humor. 

“Like you ever planned to do anything but abandon me as soon as the fighting started. Don’t worry. It’s cool. Get back to the others where it’s safe. Once I go supernova it’s not going to matter if the angel standing next to me is friend or foe.”

Balthazar nodded once and stepped away. He seemed about to flick out of existence, but then paused and tilted his head in such a Cas-like manner that Dean felt a sob break away from this throat. 

“I am sorry it had to be this way, Dean.”

Dean nodded but didn’t answer. The little moth was starting to go crazy beneath his breastbone, and he could feel them coming. Hundreds and hundreds of them. 

“Hurry up, you pompous ass, they’re almost here.”

Balthazar grinned at little at his words. 

“Bye then, love ………….. and thank you.”

Then he was gone, and not two seconds later there were angels popping up around Dean in an alarming rate. Just blinking into existence everywhere. Dozens at a time. Multiplying outwards and outwards until there was just an ocean of bodies as far as Dean could see. 

“Dean Winchester.”

Raphael’s grating voice came from directly behind him. Dean slowly turned his head until he was staring over his shoulder at the stern looking woman at his back. He mustered his cockiest grin. 

“Hey, bitch. You here to play?”

Raphael sneered and took a step forward. Immediately Dean used the Grace inside him to snap the last of Castiel’s barriers. White hot pain and heat blinded him, and the scream that ripped out his throat echoed in the nothingness around him. 

Then there was nothing. 

Nothing at all.

  
**********************  
~~~CASTIEL~~~  
**********************  


Castiel hadn’t even realized that he was still paralyzed from the waist down, until the force holding him there was gone. Even then, he only noticed because he immediately crumpled to his knees on the floor. The resounding crash beside him obviously meant that Sam Winchester had followed him down. Though their freedom of movement had been regained, both men remained where they were. Castiel wasn’t sure what was keeping Sam from moving, but as for himself, he was simply too weak in the knees.

He was frantically trying to reach out to his own Grace that had been nestled inside of Dean Winchester from the moment he gripped the man tight and raised him from perdition. He could feel it. Just barely, but it was there. He tugged and pulled to no avail. Dean was unreachable to him. The past two days of straining to keep the Grace of God manageable for Dean had weakened Castiel greatly. The only way he would be able to leave this cabin right now was through the front door. 

Absently, Cas sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and ran his tongue across the surface. There was an explosion of taste that was so _Dean_ , that a broken little noise left his throat unbidden. The painful sound was echoed beside him, and a moment later a heavy weight was on his shoulder. Turning his head towards the warmth revealed Sam resting his forehead against Castiel. The younger man’s large frame was obviously being wracked with sobs, but there were no accompanying noises in the room. Sam was desperately trying to keep his grief silent. 

Castiel clenched his hands subconsciously, and was surprised to feel something dig into his palm. He opened his fist slowly to reveal the metal band digging into his soft flesh. Carefully, as if it was the most fragile of materials, Cas picked the ring up with his fingers and watched the surface catch the rays of the sun from the kitchen window. 

“That was one of his favorite things, you know. He never took it off.”

Sam’s voice was raspy and pained. Castiel didn’t turn to look at him. 

“You should have this, Sam.”

There was a movement against his shoulder as the younger man shook his head in denial. 

“He gave it to you because he wanted you to have it, Cas.”

Without even understanding why he did so, Castiel slowly slipped the band of metal over the thumb of his left hand. It fit perfectly. He stared at it for a moment before dropping his hands lifelessly into his lap. He had failed. He had failed to stop Lucifer from rising. He had failed to stop the Apocalypse. He had failed at so many things. This failure, though, this failure could break him.  
 __  
Dean.  
Dean.  
Dean.  
  
There had always been an undercurrent of _something_ between the angel and the human he had raised from the dead, but Castiel had always put it down to feeling bonded to the man because of his Grace threaded tightly within him. When Dean had been infused with the Grace of God, and became _aware_ of Castiel’s Grace, suddenly things were different. Suddenly, it had nothing to do with Grace at all, but with a deeper connection. 

All the things they had done, and said, and accomplished together. Castiel was fairly certain he had seen Dean Winchester at his lowest on more than one occasion, and at his best more often than that. He is also sure that Dean could probably say the same for Castiel. It was a … a companionship like none the angel had ever experienced with any of this brothers. It was a friendship. A _real_ friendship, that had left Cas giddy at the thought a couple years ago when he had recognized it for what it was. 

He had loved using that word, afterwards, in regards to Dean at every opportunity. Had always eagerly told his brothers and sisters _’I must go help my friend. I need to save my friend,‘_ as if he was daring them to argue the term. As time had passed the word began to lose its luster. It didn’t feel right after a while. It wasn’t … _enough._ It didn’t accurately express what he wanted it to say. There should have been something _more_ in it’s meaning, but he couldn’t grasp what it was. 

Not until last night. Not until Dean had used that Grace to reach out and touch the very essence of Castiel’s soul. Then he realized what troubled him about the word _‘friend’_ in relation to Dean Winchester. Because then he realized that he didn’t want to be Dean’s _‘friend’_. Father help him, he wanted to be Dean’s _everything._ He wanted to be his lover, his confidant, his whore. He didn’t even care. Castiel just wanted to burrow deep inside Dean’s soul and make a home for himself there. 

Then Dean had been telling him goodbye. Going off to sacrifice himself and telling Castiel _goodbye,_ and Cas had just _snapped_. He had taken what he’d wanted and had been so overcome with joy when Dean had responded in kind. But it hadn’t changed anything. Not really. Because even with the knowledge of what they both wanted now out in the open, Dean had still left. Had still left Castiel behind. 

He wasn’t … he wasn’t sure how to handle that. 

***SNAP***

Three things happened simultaneously. 

First, the tenuous connection Castiel still had with Dean was violently and viscously severed and left him reeling in pain and shock. Second, Balthazar came crashing down from nowhere to land prone on the floor. He was roughed up and singed, but relatively unharmed. 

Third … Dean Winchester vanished from every plane of existence. 

Castiel didn’t even realize the despondent keening wail echoing through the cabin was ripped from his own throat until he was being gathered up in Balthazar’s arms, and Sam Winchester was screaming his anger and grief to the world at large beside him. 

It was all over.

  
**********************  
PART EIGHT  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


Dean yawned and stretched immediately upon waking. He was sinking into something warm and comfortable, and really couldn’t be bothered to move.

“Dean.”

The voice wasn’t immediately recognizable, so he chose to ignore it and snuggled deeper into the softness surrounding him. 

“Dean. Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up.”

Okay … now the voice did sound a _little_ familiar … but who the hell was it? Blearily, Dean opened his eyes and was instantly overcome by white. Blinding white. Everywhere he could see. He groaned and slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. There was a massive white, plush cushion beneath him. Dean closed his eyes against the brightness and rubbed the sleep out of them with both hands. 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

He grunted his dissatisfaction at being brought back to consciousness before opening his eyes once more. Glancing down at himself, Dean realized that even _he_ was in all white. A soft white cotton v-neck shirt and a pair of loose white pajama pants. His feet were bare, though, and he wiggled his toes at himself for a few seconds. There was a soft, nervous chuckle from behind him and Dean turned to find its source. 

The t-shirt and the boxers and the bathrobe were all familiar, although this time they were all pure white. It took Dean a couple seconds more to process the scruffy face and the lopsided smile, because fuck, it had been _years_ now since he’d seen the little dude, hadn’t it? 

“Chuck?”

His voice was harsh and gravelly with disuse, but that didn’t make much sense did it? Because why would his voice be suffering from disuse? _In fact, now that you get down to it, where the fuck was he? And what was with all the damn white, anyway? And what the fuck was Chuck doing here?_

It all came slamming back at once. The Grace and the pain and the little moth and Castiel and Sam and the angels _and he was supposed to go BOOM wasn’t he? Holy fuck. Holy FUCK._ Dean closed his eyes and tried to feel the Grace inside of him. It was still there, just a little bit … just a little power, but the consciousness … the little moth was gone. That wasn’t all though … Cas … Cas’ Grace was gone as well. Completely. Dean felt suddenly bereft. 

He returned his gaze to the smaller man standing a few yards away from him, wondering at his presence, but then Chuck gave a sheepish shrug and a guilty smile and suddenly Dean knew. He _knew._

“You SONUVABITCH!”

Dean flew to his feet and tried to stalk towards Chuck, but his knees gave way after only a couple steps. It didn’t stop his mouth. 

“The whole time? The WHOLE FUCKING TIME, CHUCK!?”

Chuck glanced down to fiddle with the hem of his bathrobe anxiously. 

“You were right THERE for all of it! For Cas looking for you, and everyone dying, and you could have stopped it all! Sam and the cage and Michael and Lilith and FUCK!! EVERYTHING! You could have stopped EVERYTHING! You were right fucking THERE! The WHOLE TIME!”

Chuck just nodded once and turned to meet Dean’s accusing gaze. 

“I understand that you’re angry, Dean, but there are things that you don’t understand. Rules. Once a plan is put in place even I can’t change it.”

“Bullshit.”

Dean finally managed to lift himself somewhat steadily to his feet. Before him Chuck waved his hands frantically in Dean’s direction.

“No, I’m serious. These plans are eons old. Practically set in stone. The best I can do is tweak them a little. Like getting you and Sam away from Lucifer’s rising, and bringing Castiel back to life twice. Technically that was all I could do at the time.”

“So you’re saying that even _GOD_ can’t deviate from GOD’s Plan? I still gotta call bullshit on that, Chuck.”

The smaller man sighed. 

“I know … it’s … look … I-”

Dean rubbed his hands down his face, suddenly feeling ten times his age. 

“So what was this, then? What was this plan? Give me a little bit of your Grace and clean house?”

Chuck shrugged his shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides. 

“Well … basically … yes.”

A soft sob broke free from Dean’s lips. 

“So, you just needed me to clean up for you, and then you were going to let me burn away into nothing?”

Chuck made a small sound of disbelief under his breath and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. 

“Dean, you do realize we’re having a conversation right now, don’t you? You haven’t burnt away to nothingness … you’re right HERE. And I intend to send you back.”

That startled Dean enough that he swayed slightly on his feet. 

“You … you do?”

The smaller man … or God, Dean supposed, shook his head once and stepped up closer to the hunter. 

“I know this was all kind of sudden, and out of the blue, but I considered every option. This civil war was never part of any of my plans, and Raphael and the others had taken it too far. I had hoped that I could leave the governing of Heaven to my children, but recent events proved me wrong. So I figured it was time to come out of retirement. 

The only problem was that I didn’t have a Hand of God to do what I needed to be done. I can’t do these things directly, you see, there has to be something separate from me. A plague, a flood, a storm … the _Hand of God_ , but I couldn’t really trust just any of my children under the recent circumstances, could I? Do you understand?”

Dean nodded his head, a bit shakily. 

“So … you gave _me_ the job then?”

Chuck shrugged a shoulder.

“I had intended to give Castiel the honor, but then I realized … if I did … there would _be_ no more Castiel.”

“What … what do you mean?”

A heavy weight continued to grow in Dean’s chest as the conversation progressed.

“I mean, if an angel takes the Grace of God within themselves, that angel would be forever changed. If I had chosen Castiel … he would never be the same again, and I just couldn’t do that. To him. Or to _you_.”

Dean nodded and dropped his gaze to his bare feet. 

“So … I did okay, then? I did what you wanted? I made the right decision?”

Chuck sighed happily. 

“Yes, Dean. You were _perfect_. Now I’m going to finish it. I’ll set it all to rights.”

“But … but I destroyed all those angels. Isn’t that bad?”

“No. It’s fine. I’m going to bring them all back. They’ll have learned their lesson by now, and if they haven’t … then I’ll deal with that, too.”

Dean brought a hand to his chest. He wouldn’t have imagined it days ago, but he missed feeling that little beat of wings between his ribs, and the loss of Castiel’s Grace left him feeling raw and empty. Chuck could either read his mind, or it was apparently written across his face, because the deity began to speak before Dean could even gather his thoughts into words. 

“I’m sorry about Castiel’s Grace. I had to remake you, just as he had done before. All his Grace was burned away when you accomplished your task. I remade you with my own.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up to meet Chuck’s then.

“But … your Grace was killing me. How can … I mean … isn’t it…”

Chuck put his hands forward in a placating gesture.

“No, no it’s fine. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. There will be differences, though. You’ll see. You’ll feel things a different way, see them a different way, sometimes be able to do things you couldn’t before. But it isn’t a danger to you, not in this way, not like before.”

There were a couple moments of uncomfortable silence as Dean processed this new information, and Chuck started to fidget nervously before him. It was such a drunken-prophet-Chuck action that for a moment Dean wondered if this was all a really fucked up dream.

“It’s not. It’s not a dream.”

He supposed he really shouldn’t be shocked that God _could_ read his thoughts, so Dean just tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

“I … I do have something to tell you that you’re not going to like, though, Dean.”

That heavy weight in his chest increased tenfold.

“What is it?”

Chuck chewed on his bottom lip a few seconds before speaking. 

“I have to punish Castiel for his rebellion.”

It took a minute to process the words, but then absolute _fury_ bubbled up into Dean’s throat.

“You’re fucking _kidding_ me, Chuck.”

The man across from him sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead wearily. He couldn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes, and being the all powerful Creator that he was so intoned to be … it just pissed Dean off all the more. 

“I understand that Castiel is your friend, but you have to understand that no matter what the issue was … he disobeyed direct orders from his superiors and went against everything he was created to believe and uphold. If I go up there to fix things … if I want to reign in all the radicals and satisfy all the hypocrites … then Cas has to be reprimanded. He has to be punished.”

Dean could practically feel himself bristling like a cat rubbed the wrong way. The complete injustice of the entire situation made him forget, just for a second, exactly who he was having this argument with. 

“Bullshit! Cas is the only reason you still have a fucking world to mess with! If he hadn’t gone against your war mongering, dickless hordes there would be nothing left right now! You can’t do this, you chickenshit son of a bitch!”

There was a crackle in the atmosphere, as if someone had just accidentally jammed one too many plugs into an outlet … and the next second Dean was on his knees gasping for air against the pain. For all intents and purposes, his ribcage appeared to be compacting inside his chest and squeezing the life out of him. Not a lovely feeling to say the least, but it did remind him that perhaps name calling and angry flailing at the All Mighty was not the wisest of his decisions lately.

Through the haze he could feel Chuck kneel before him. The smaller man placed both his hands on either side of Dean’s face, and just that quickly all the pain was gone and the hunter could breathe once more. When he focused and looked into Chuck’s big, sad eyes … he just couldn’t bring himself to fear the ex-prophet. All he could see before him was his friend. Just … his _friend._ Chuck. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to do that. You just … hurt my feelings for a second.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He scoffed. 

“Seriously? Fuck you.”

He had tried for affronted and hostile … but the words had barely squeaked out. Sounding defeated and broken. Chuck sighed and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Dean’s forehead. Like a blessing. 

“Dean, please let me try to explain.”

The lips that moved against his skin were chapped and warm. He wanted to push the man away from him and demand to be returned to the cabin. And Sam. And Cas. And normality. Instead he could only sit frozen and think to himself … _what, is there no Chapstick in the pockets of the house robe of the Lord?_ Chuck leaned back to rest on his haunches, but didn’t release Dean’s face from his grasp. 

“If I could help this, or avoid it, I would in a second. But I cannot regain control of the Heavenly Hosts when a mere soldier from the garrison rebelled against Heaven, and has no reprimand taken against him. I just … can’t. Once they realize that I’ve shown favoritism to Castiel on more than one occasion … it will be difficult to stop them from trying to rip all that he has become away from him.”

Dean forced himself to stay calm and breathe deeply. 

“Favoritism?”

Chuck nodded solemnly. 

“How many of my children do you think I’ve brought back from destruction not once, but twice? Not to mention he’s had a practically meteoric rise in rank and power. That doesn’t sit well with all his brothers and sisters that have held back and simply done as they were told. He was a soldier. It was not his place to question or challenge.”

Dean swallowed thickly with a sudden case of nerves, but this was a subject he just couldn’t seem to keep his big mouth shut about. Of course it had absolutely nothing to do with the recent events. Absolutely nothing. Obviously. _Hello river in Egypt. How YOU doin’?_

“Chuck … you know _why_ he had to do all that. Stuff was corrupt up there. He’s been working _so hard_ to put things back in order. To do what he thought _you_ would want him to do. He’s driving himself to the brink and having to kill family … all for you. How can you punish him for that?”

The former prophet smiled faintly and shook his head slightly. 

“Honestly … the two of you … so blind. I would say a ‘match made in Heaven’ but that would just sound pompous and silly, wouldn’t it?”

It was one thing to have your own private thoughts ( _and the KISS, Jesus_ ) on the strange tension with Castiel that had been a constant part of Dean’s life lately, but to have God … freaking GOD … just put the words out there in the open like that. Made a man want to find the nearest cliff and channel his inner lemming. He could feel his face flushing hotly beneath the small hands framing it, but he would bite his damn fool tongue off before he responded in any way to _that_ particular comment. Chuck seemed to read it all in his expression, so he simply grinned a little wider and moved away from the topic. 

“I’m going to let you in on a couple secrets, Dean. Please try to listen closely and don’t clam up that stubborn, hard head of yours, okay?”

Dean swallowed audibly and nodded his stubborn, hard head. Chuck released his face and shifted around until he was sitting with this legs crossed on the floor. The hunter blinked once or twice then moved to copy the preferred sitting style of the All Mighty. Who was he to argue? It startled him a little when, after he was settled, Chuck scooted forward until their knees were touching. 

“First, there’s something you desperately need to understand … but you probably won’t for a while. The punishment that Castiel is going to receive … really isn’t punishment at all. Not for him, anyway. His brothers and sisters will see it as a terrible, awful, hideous thing … but that’s what I NEED them to see. He will be upset at first. Angry and hurt. However, when he thinks about it, he’s going to realize that I’m giving him exactly what he wants. 

“Second, and this is very important … I need to know you will take responsibility for the things you have done.”

Something heavy and painful settled itself in Dean’s gut, but this time he was pretty sure that Chuck had nothing to do with it. His voice sounded strangled coming out of his lips. 

“What … what I have done?”

A deep intensity sparked inside the deity’s eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to think of this small man as all powerful and all knowing. To think of the things he’d seen and done. The galaxies of knowledge that reflected in those orbs. Dean lost himself for a second before Chuck spoke and jarred him out of his stupor. 

“You have turned an Angel of Heaven away from his Father to worship another.”

Dean balked in protest, but was instantly silenced by a finger pressed to his lips.

“No, Dean. I beget my children to love all of my creations, but to always love and obey me above all else. It’s kind of egotistical and self-absorbed, I know … but I was very different back then. The thing is … Castiel loves me. He loves all my creations. He loves his family and his purpose and his calling.”

Chuck’s hands were abruptly grasping Dean’s face once more, and pulling himself close into the larger man’s personal space. _Obvious now, where Cas got it from._

“It’s just that now … he loves you _more_.”

A fist seemed to clench around the heart beating in Dean’s chest, and its twin seemed to be clasping his throat. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, within Chuck’s hands. Whether it was in denial, or disbelief, or just plain shock … he wasn’t sure. 

“It’s true, Dean. It’s what makes Cas so special. He grew and changed and learned independence. He challenged his very purpose because it _felt_ wrong. He has learned to love something, not because of his duty or obligation … but just because he, _himself_ … loved it. Do you understand how amazing that is? As a father I am so proud I can barely keep it bottled inside, but as _The Father_ I am supposed to be angry and vengeful. 

“Castiel was once an Angel of the Lord in Heaven … but now he’s an Angel of Dean Winchester on Earth. He is yours, just as he was once mine. So I need you to accept accountability for what you have done. I need you to take responsibility for your angel, so I don’t have to BE the vengeful Father and smite him from existence. Do you understand?”

Just like that, he was released and Chuck was surging to his feet and walking slowly away in the glaring whiteness of nothing. Dean still couldn’t bring himself to speak. His voice was just gone. Strangled by emotions and fear. 

“Castiel will be temporarily banished from Heaven.”

Dean clenched his eyes closed so tightly sparks of light began burst in the darkness. 

“He will retain all his powers and abilities, because Heaven knows you Winchesters need all the help you can _get_.”

Chuck’s voice seemed further away, but still Dean didn’t open his eyes, and great choking gasps of air seemed to be making his body tremble. _Cas. This will destroy Cas._

“He will remain on Earth, with you, until your time has come and your story has ended. At the moment of your death … your _true_ death … he will be released to return to his rightful place with me.”

Tears tracked down his face, but he chose not to wipe them away and instead climbed to his feet awkwardly like a toddler. Once again opening his eyes to the blinding white surrounding him, he could make out Chuck slowly walking away into the nothing. His voice croaked when it finally surged past the large lump in his throat. 

“Wait! Chuck, wait!”

The ex-prophet paused, and turned back to face him. The look on his face was cold and stony. It didn’t suit him at all. 

“Yes, Dean?”

Knees feeling like Jello beneath him, he managed to walk as quickly as possible to catch up with the smaller man. 

“Please. Please can I ask you something and you tell me the truth? I think after all of this … I deserve a couple truths.”

Chuck heaved a weary sigh, but nodded his head in acceptance. Dean took it as his clearance to ask away. 

“When … when we … where are me and Sammy going? You know? When … I mean, are we heading up or down after all this is over?”

Laughter peeled through the emptiness around them. It wasn’t cruel or cold, or even mocking. More like startled, but filled with warmth. The smile on Chuck’s face was back, and it was so full of something close to fondness, Dean found his nerves melting away. 

“Really, Dean? You have to ask that?”

When Dean simply nodded, Chuck stepped forward and placed his hands gently on the hunter’s shoulders.

“Dean Winchester. My _friend._ Your name is known by all the Angels in Heaven and all the Demons in Hell. You are recognized by gods and monsters alike. You are a dear friend of the King of Kings. You and your brother? Are the stuff of _legends_ … and legends are destined for the stars.”

Dean swallowed thickly, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The deity before him suddenly wrapped his smaller frame around him in a crushing hug. When he stepped back, there were tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. And if they kind of glowed like a million galaxies were hidden within … well, Dean wasn’t going to say anything. 

“I promise you, Dean, that neither you nor your brother will ever see Hell again. When you each pass from the mortal realm, Castiel will carry you to Heaven himself. This I swear.”

Then Chuck turned away and began to fade into the white behind him. 

“And when you get up there … you might want to check out this little dive of a place on the fringes of Heaven. Good bar. Nice people. All of them pretty big fans of yours.”

A wink and a grin, and the Almighty Creator was gone.

  
**********************  
PART NINE  
***********************  
~~~SAM~~~  
***********************  


Sam was slouched into the leather couch and absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelets Dean had put on his wrist hours before. He still felt completely raw with grief inside and his throat burned from the screaming he’d done. He was worn out and exhausted. He was watching Castiel.

The angel was perched on the edge of the large bed, slumped over like a wounded, broken doll. His long fingers were spinning Dean’s ring around his thumb. When Cas had made that horrible fucking noise earlier, Sam had known instantly that Dean was gone. The memory of the sound still sent tremors down Sam’s back. 

He’d never heard anything like it before, and it made him wonder. His own grief for the loss of his brother was palpable. Coursing through his bloodstream and weakening his mind and body … but … he’d been through this _before_. He had lost Dean _before_ , and already knew the sense of bereavement and pain that would bear down on him. Knew what to expect and how he would react, _and wasn’t that really fucking terrible, that you would know more than once in your lifetime the pain of losing the person most important to you in the world?_

But he did. He _did_ know. Thing was … though … Castiel _didn’t_. Sam understood that Castiel had been grieving the brothers and sisters he’d lost since the beginning of the Apocalypse, and that the angel had grieved Sam’s loss when he was thrown into the cage. Sam was sure, however, that this was different. That no matter how much Cas had loved those he lost previously, that _surely_ they didn’t compare to how much he had loved Dean Winchester. 

It had been written all over the angel’s face after the kiss. _And Goddamn, hadn’t that been a mind screw? Watching your brother making out with another man like a horny teenager?_ It had been written into every pain-filled syllable of the sounds that burst from Castiel after Dean had gone. It was in every movement the angel had made since then. Castiel had loved Dean. Castiel had loved Dean so MUCH that he probably had no idea what to do with himself now. _And fuck if Sam didn’t know the feeling. All too well._

Sam could feel a fresh wave of tears begin to collect in his eyes. He was seconds from giving into his exhaustion and falling into unconsciousness on the couch, when the feeling in the air suddenly … shifted. Castiel’s head perked up and his gaze flew upwards toward the ceiling. In the kitchen, Balthazar had done pretty much the same, simultaneously. The taller angel’s voice was a bit slurred when he spoke. 

“Something’s changed.”

From the bed Castiel nodded his head in agreement. 

“Yes. Something is different. Something big is happening.”

Sam jumped to his feet and strode quickly over to stand beside the bed. 

“Is it Dean? Is he still … what’s going on?”

Cas didn’t meet his eyes, but slowly pulled himself to a standing position beside Sam.

“No. I don’t … know.”

There was a clunk of glass on wood in the kitchen, and Balthazar had apparently put down his ever present bottle of wine. 

“I’ll go check it out. Back in a few, my darlings.”

In an instant the angel was gone, but Sam was too busy concentrating on Castiel to pay much attention. The smaller man’s eyes were wide and stunned as they gazed Heavenward, and his mouth was parted in confusion. Sam tugged the arm of the familiar trench coat and felt much like a toddler begging his parent for reassurance. Castiel brought his lips back together slowly and licked them in a nervous gesture. Again, Sam had a fleeting image of this brother practically eating those same lips not so long ago, and he could feel himself blushing in embarrassment. 

“It’s strange. This feels like … this feels more like … Father.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocketed upwards and he opened his mouth to question the statement, when another voice beat him to it. A voice he never thought he’d hear again. 

“Yup. It’s the big cheese, alright. Finally cleaning up some of his own crap.”

And there he was. Dressed all in white, barefoot, and perfectly fine. 

Dean.

  
***********************  
~~~DEAN~~~  
***********************  


After Chuck had faded into the whiteness surrounding him, Dean kept waiting for something to happen. _Something should really be happening, shouldn’t it?_ Chuck had said he planned on sending Dean back, but then he’d just disappeared, and Dean was still stuck here in this nothingness.

There was a burst of energy in the universe that sent tremors through his chest. Apparently Big Daddy was now home and was having his own form of a Desi Arnaz _‘Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do’_ moment with his crazy ass children. 

Dean snorted. 

“About time the delinquent Dad goes back home to clean up his fucking mess.”

***POKE***

There was a sudden sharp stab of pain in Dean’s right side, like some old boney finger had jabbed directly into his ribs. Dean hissed in shock and then spun in a circle to find his assailant. There was no one else in the white. If he had been a cartoon, a light bulb would have flicked on above his head. 

“God is a short, scrawny pale dude with chicken legs and a really shitty sense of humor.”

***POKE***

Another jab, this time a bit harsher, between two of his ribs. 

“Seriously, Chuck? You gonna listen to everything I say?”

_No answer. Figures._

There was a WHOOSH of energy nearby and damned if Dean couldn’t feel that it was Balthazar. He came from ‘down’ and was heading ‘up’ … which meant Dean had to be somewhere between Heaven and Earth, somehow. He was pretty sure he could sort of feel the path that the angel left behind, so he closed his eyes and concentrated. He wasn’t even positive anything had happened until he heard Cas’ voice. 

“It’s strange. This feels like … this feels more like … Father.”

And _God_ … Dean opened his eyes and there they were. Sammy and Cas. Standing close to each other in the cabin, staring up at the ceiling like a couple of crazy loons. Sam was even clutching the arm of Cas’ trench coat like he used to clutch Dean’s leather jacket when he was younger. It was fucking _adorable_ , is what it was. He could feel the manic grin on his own lips when he spoke. 

“Yup. It’s the big cheese, alright. Finally cleaning up some of his own crap.”

Cas and Sam fucking _whirled_ around so quickly they almost ended up tripping all over each other and pitching forward to the floor. Only Cas’ strength stopped them. Sam’s face was so openly full of shock and joy that Dean could feel tears start burning in his own eyes, and dammit he wasn’t going to go through that again. 

Castiel just looked completely shell-shocked, but Dean didn’t really have time to consider the angel’s reaction before his giant-sized little brother barreled into him and crashed them painfully to the floor. 

_Whoops. Apparently Dean was still a bit woozy and off balance._

Dean’s back screamed in protest, but at least Sam had hurtled them into the thick area rug and not directly onto the wooden floor. His brother’s long arms had instantly wrapped themselves around Dean’s torso, and Sam obviously tried to turn mid-fall and take most of the impact. It hadn’t worked, not even remotely, but it was the thought that counted. 

Dean let out a long wheeze of breath as the air struggled to get back into his lungs. Sam propped himself up on his elbows and eyed Dean guiltily. 

“Sorry. Sorry, Dean.”

The elder Winchester just laughed softly, then wrapped his arms around his little brother’s neck and brought him back down for a hug. 

“S’okay, Sammy.”

Sam sunk face first into Dean’s neck and let loose a long, shaky sigh into his brother’s skin. Dean could feel his brothers’ shoulders shaking beneath his arms. 

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m not going to do that to you again. I promise.”

Sam nodded within Dean’s grip. A nervous shuffling motion brought Dean’s gaze back to the center of the room, and to Castiel. The angel was pale and obviously unsure about what he should be doing. He shifted from foot to foot and clenched his hands anxiously. A flash of metal snagged Dean’s gaze and there was his ring, snug against Cas’ thumb. It sent a flare of heat straight to Dean’s belly. 

“Cas.”

Those startling blue eyes shifted towards Dean and held his gaze. Dean stretched his right arm straight towards the angel, palm up, and motioned with his fingers for Cas to come closer. The angel took a single step before pausing again. Dean clucked under his breath. 

“Don’t be stupid, Cas, come here.”

Apparently that was all the instruction the angel required, because in the next breath he was on his knees beside Dean’s head and gripped the offered hand tightly between his own. Dean smiled and squeezed those long, lovely fingers with his rough calloused ones. 

“Dean … I don’t understand … how?”

The words must have broken through Sam’s hug obsessed brain, because his little brother finally shifted upwards and back to sit on his haunches. Between the two of them, they carefully helped Dean up into a seated position. Normally he would have balked at being babied, but truth was, he was still feeling a little drained. 

“I told you, Cas. The big guy is back and cleaning up his mess.”

Sam sucked in a quick breath. 

“You mean … God? Dean! Did you … did you meet _God_?”

Dean barked out a laugh and moved to wipe a hand down his face, then realized neither of his hands were in his possession. Cas was still tightly gripping one between his, and Sam was in ownership of the other. So Dean just shrugged a shoulder instead. 

“Yeah. Sneaky little son of a bitch, you wouldn’t believe who-”

***POKE***

A sharp jab, harder than the others before, felt like a fucking ice pick right between the ribs. Dean sucked in a pained breath. Sam had instantly shifted closer at the sound. 

“Dean!”

For his part, Dean just cast his gaze Heavenward. 

“Are you fucking KIDDING me with this shit? You’re not even going to let me _tell_ them!?!”

***POKE***

Another jab, though this time a bit softer. Dean growled. 

“That’s real fucking chickenshit of you, C-”

***POKE***

And that was the hardest one yet. It actually made Dean double over a bit with the pain. 

“Alright already!! DAMMIT! I get it! _Fuck!_ Don’t you have better things to do right now?”

***POKE***

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Nothing happened after his last statement and Dean sighed wearily. When he lifted his gaze, both Sam and Cas stared at him with eyes so comically wide another bark of laughter bubbled forth. 

“Yeah, Sammy … yeah… I met God. After all the house cleaning I did for him, he remade me … brought me back. Now he’s up there setting everything to rights.”

Castiel gasped beside him, and Dean could feel the angel’s Grace seeking out something inside Dean’s body. That tilted Dean’s mouth down in sadness. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Cas. Your Grace … it burnt away.”

The angel just nodded twice in quick succession, but swallowed audibly. Dean wondered if Cas felt bereft, much like he did, at the loss of their connection. From the look on the angel’s face, he would guess so. He tugged on the hand trapped between Cas’ and that blue gaze shifted back to his own. Dean tried to smile as warmly as he could. _It’s okay. It’s alright. I still want you. I still want this._

He couldn’t be sure if the message went across, but Cas seemed to relax marginally, so he hoped it did. Sam dropped Dean’s hand at that moment, and scrubbed the tears away from his own face. 

“This is all so messed up, Dean. This is all so …”

Dean reached over to pat his brother’s massive knee a couple times. 

“Yeah … but it’s all done now, Sam. No more civil war in Heaven. No more Mother of All. No more Raphael. No more wall. It’s all over.”

Dean turned to Castiel.

“He even said He’s going to bring back all your brothers and sisters that have died, Cas. He’s going to fix _everything_.”

A spark of blue fire was suddenly in those eyes, and Castiel leapt to his feet, hands slipping away from Dean. 

“I need to go see. I want to-”

And then Castiel flickered out of existence and Dean struggled to his feet. 

“CAS! WAIT!”

A blink of an eye later, and the angel was right back, in the same position he’d been a second ago. There was a look of stunned confusion on his face, and then he was gone again. Only to appear again a split second later. The stunned confusion quickly turned into blind panic. 

“I do not understand!”

He was gone again. Then he was back.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND!”

Gone. Back. 

“Dean! Why can’t I-”

Gone. Back.

This time Castiel simply dropped to his knees in defeat. Dean surged forward and flung his arms around the angel’s neck, and gripped him close. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Cas! I tried to stop him! I tried to talk him out of it!”

Cas pushed back from Dean far enough to meet his gaze. 

“Why can’t I get into Heaven, Dean? Why can’t I … I don’t understand!”

A hitching sob burst from Dean’s chest before he could stop it and he shook his head once. He released his arms from around Cas’ neck, but brought his hands up to gently cradle the angel’s head. His fingers slipped into the silky, dark hair and then gripped tightly. He didn’t want Cas to try again and meet with more disappointment. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry!”

Castiel’s eyes widened marginally as he continued to meet Dean’s gaze. His voice was soft and deep when he spoke. 

“I’ve … I’ve been banished?”

Sam sucked in a breath from behind them, and Dean could only nod solemnly. 

“I’m … I’m being punished?”

Again, Dean could only nod. He wanted to turn away from the pain so obvious in Castiel’s eyes, but he forced himself to be strong for his friend. 

“It’s not forever, Cas. It’s not forever, I promise.”

Castiel’s eyes unfocused and his body went unnaturally still within Dean’s grasp. 

“I rebelled. I rebelled and I followed you instead of my orders. I went against everything that I was created to do. I’m being punished for my actions.”

Behind Dean, Sam was screaming out about the unfairness of it all, but Dean had to concentrate on the angel before him. Cas sounded so defeated and small, and it was terrifying. Fingers still gripped tight in the dark hair, Dean roughly shook the head in his hands once. 

“Listen to me, Cas.”

The angel simply closed his eyes. So Dean shook Cas’ head a little harder the second time.

“CAS!”

Those blue eyes were on him again, and Dean could easily see the need for reassurance there. He took a deep breath before he began to speak. 

“He didn’t _want_ to do it. He _didn’t._ He said he was so proud of you for what you’ve done, how you’ve grown and become something different from your brothers and sisters.”

Castiel swallowed audibly. 

“Then … why am I being punished?”

 _Fuck._ Dean quit fighting the tears and let them track warmly down his cheeks. 

“He said he had no choice. He said … it was either this, or he would have had to destroy you.”

Cas’ lip trembled just a fraction before he spoke.

“I would rather have been destor-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, and Dean hadn’t even realized he was moving until the sound of the slap was echoing like a gunshot through the cabin. Obviously, it didn’t do anything to Castiel beside stop him from speaking, and Dean’s hand felt like it was broken in a million places. He ignored that though. 

“Don’t you EVEN FUCKING SAY IT, CAS!”

The angel’s eyes were flung wide in disbelief. 

“If you would just listen to what I’m trying to TELL YOU! Just fucking LISTEN, okay!?”

Castiel nodded, still stunned. 

“It’s not forever! It’s only until … look-”

Dean licked his lips and tried to figure out the best way to get across what he needed to. 

“He said … he said that because you rebelled and followed me … that … that you’re MY responsibility now. You’re MY responsibility, and as long as I’m down here … so are you. Do you understand?”

Castiel was beginning to decompress right before Dean. The tension was leaving his shoulders and the fear bled out of his eyes. Dean licked his lips again, and this time Cas’ gaze shot down to track the movement. Instantly, the fire in Dean’s gut sparked back to life. 

“So … so when I die, you get to go back to Heaven. Banishment over. That’s not … that’s not too bad, right?”

Cas shook his head minutely, but his gaze never left Dean’s lips. 

“He said He’s not going to strip you of your power or anything, either. So that’s good, right?”

The angel nodded absently and leaned further into Dean’s space. Their lips were only inches apart when Dean spoke next. 

“I mean … it won’t be so bad, will it? Being stuck with me?”

His voice was coming out all breathy and deep and _fuck_ … Dean knew he was a sexy sonuvabitch, but the sound of it even turned _him_ on. Poor little angel didn’t stand a _chance._ Their lips were only a breath away from touching when he spoke again. 

“Besides, you know _me_ … it’ll probably only be a couple years before I’m hitching the big ride to the top, anyway.”

He’s pretty sure he heard Sammy expel a _‘Jesus! Dean!’_ somewhere in the background, but he couldn’t focus on it, because the second those words had left Dean’s lips a very pissed off angel slammed him into the floor. 

Castiel’s hands were now fisted in the soft white shirt Chuck had left Dean in. The angel had smashed him painfully backwards and was now looming above him, sparks of fire in his eyes and a sneer on his lips.

“Do NOT speak like that.”

 _GODDAMN._ The heat and power in Cas’ voice sent shivers straight down Dean’s spine to his toes. 

“Do NOT speak like your death would not BREAK the people in this room.”

His toes curled. Dean’s toes fucking _curled_ at the gravel and intensity of that voice. He was lying prone on the floor, and damned if Castiel hadn’t fucking straddled his hips, his strong hands still gripped tight in Dean’s shirt. He tried to nod, but it was just a feeble movement. He tried to speak, but the _‘I’m sorry’_ came out as just a trickled whisper. 

Castiel growled above him and Dean immediately arched his neck back, exposing his throat to the angel. _Seriously? What kind of jacked up Pavlovian response was that?_ Judging by the damn near purr that came from above him, apparently the appropriate one. _And Hell … Dean could get with that. No problem. Because that was fucking HOT._

Finally, _finally_ , there was a warm mouth crushing against his and he opened his lips instantly in response. That scalding hot tongue was there immediately, and it may currently be Dean’s favorite thing in the world. It laved across Dean’s mouth and he responded in kind. Twisting and twirling and stroking and sucking … and Castiel was pretty much fucking Dean’s mouth with his tongue. There was a whimpering noise between them that Dean would deny to his fucking death bed came from him, and impulse made him arch his back up from the floor. It ground them together in a really delicious way and Cas retreated from Dean enough to snag Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth and growl deep in his throat. 

“Um.”

The voice was nervous and embarrassed. Dean and Cas both froze on the spot. Dean arched his neck further backwards to see behind him, his lip popping out of Castiel’s mouth at the movement. Poor, poor upside down Sammy was about a million shades of red and trying to look anywhere but at the two men on the floor. Further behind him, Balthazar was leaning against the kitchen counter with a shit-eating grin on his face and a camera phone in his hand. 

_Fucker._

Dean sighed heavily and went limp on the floor. Castiel groaned in mortification and plopped his forehead straight down onto Dean’s chest. His voice came out petulant and childish pressed against Dean’s skin. 

“This … is very embarrassing.”

Dean just couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. He started laughing so hard that pain shot through his ribs, but he just couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. 

_Life was fucking awesome sometimes._

  
**********************  
 ***THE END***  
 _(for now)_  
**********************  


**Author's Note:**

> I haz Tumblr!!! Come say hi! :) [HERE](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me... God" by bunnymaccool](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115301) by [RunawayMarbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayMarbles/pseuds/RunawayMarbles)




End file.
